


A Little Slice Of Heaven

by onamelancholyhill



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Apple Pie Life, Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Big Bang Challenge, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Male Character, Biting, Boys In Love, California, Coffee Shops, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, DeanCas Big Bang, Dorks in Love, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Food, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kansas, Kansas City, Love, Lube, M/M, Making Out, Music, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person, Pop Culture, Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., Sexual Content, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Build, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 112,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onamelancholyhill/pseuds/onamelancholyhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Morrison once said, “The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are.” That was Castiel Novak’s motto in life, and the reason why he accepted his grandmother's inheritance and took the responsibility it implied. </p><p>Dean Winchester, a remarkable accountant at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., however, had other priorities. He lived to serve, hidden in a mask that didn’t allow him to be honest with himself, but lonesome and boring. </p><p>When destiny made their paths cross, in a less than promising way, with Dean as the instigator and Castiel as his victim, Dean’s mind started wandering, in between pies and cakes, coffees and muffins... What if Mr. Morrison was right? </p><p>After all, as the guy used to say, "there can’t be any large-scale revolution, until there’s a personal revolution first."</p><p>♥ UPDATED!! ♥<br/>Timestamp Added. Hope you like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Devil's Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is something I never thought I would do. Yeah, I love Destiel... but I never thought I would be signing to write a Big Bang. Although, I did. I remember I went to have lunch one day in April, and when I came back to my office half an hour later I had in my mind the main parts of the story you will read. I still think I have no talent to write, but anyway I took the risk.
> 
> I want to THANK my lovely betas: Kelly, Dean, Alene, Daniela, Casey, Alex and Foxy. You all made the whole process easier and less stressing. If my story is good, it's because of you. I want to THANK the great artist I've worked with as well. Maya, your work is beyond price. 
> 
> I've played a lot with Google Maps and Google Street View while doing this fic. [Overland Park is a place that exists](https://www.google.com.ar/maps/place/Overland+Park,+KS,+USA/@38.9109704,-94.5195762,11z/data=!4m2!3m1!1s0x87c09551a72638d3:0x24ce4feb3844f9c8) (people in the USA will know better than me haha), as well as the streets I've named, etc. For the main scenario of this fic, I've chosen [this particular street](https://www.google.com.ar/maps/@38.9844619,-94.6718172,3a,75y,109.87h,90.58t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sdPRLP9jvd7dgoG1RGR7KYA!2e0!7i13312!8i6656!6m1!1e1). You can see the bakery itself, as well as... another shop I won't spoil haha.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy ths fic, it's like a baby to me. I've put all my heart and soul on it. Months of hard work and lack of sleeping concluded in this. All typos and grammar issues are my fault, and mine alone. As I've discovered, writing something this long when you have another mother tongue is really difficult.
> 
> However, I could totally do it again next year. Who knows?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title refers to a moist, airy and rich chocolate cake, with multiple layers, whose origin is United States. It's basically chocolate with chocolate. And chocolate. You can check the recipe [here.](http://www.food.com/recipe/the-only-chocolate-cake-recipe-youll-ever-need-devils-food-26370)

 

 

In the past, if asked about it, Castiel would have said that he would never be involved in such a situation. After all, he avoided his family like the plague. But there he was, in the middle of a waiting room, surrounded by all those cousins he never really liked to be in touch with, waiting for the family attorney to call their name.

The thing was that Anna, Castiel’s grandmother and the Novak clan’s oldest member, had died the week before, leaving behind a juicy will in her name that was waiting to be read. Castiel was never a materialistic person, and the grief of her loss was still really fresh and raw in him. Unlike the rest of the family, his relationship with her was close and healthy, and even when days passed by, he would had preferred sidestepping from the whole thing, and get over his mourning alone and without a battle with his cousins to divide her properties.

Castiel even tried to persuade the attorney to call the meeting off in multiple occasions. The rudeness in his answer the last time he suggested it, though, ( _“Do you think this is a game, kid? Come here if you don’t want me to oblige you!”_ ) gave him no other option than sighing deeply and facing the music.

The atmosphere was tense. Zachariah and his wife Hester were sitting on the biggest sofa, with the same look of disgust, sending vicious glances towards Castiel every twenty seconds and making him feel terribly uncomfortable. Balthazar was next, wearing his newest Versace coat and checking out Hester’s legs when nobody (except Castiel) was paying attention. Raphael and Uriel were chatting together in the corner of the room, with somber profiles and dark suits. Gabriel was the last one, and Castiel thought (while watching him flirt with the attorney’s secretary) he was the only Novak family member feeling at ease in that place.

Castiel checked his watch. Half past nine. Thirty minutes late. Thirty extra minutes he had to share with his family. Somehow he felt like he could pass out.

“Cousin Cassie, take it easy, honey!” Balthazar said, with a mocking expression. “Spending time with us, sharing our air… it can’t be that horrid!”

Castiel suddenly felt the tension in his brain translate into red in his cheeks. He tried to answer him at first with an “I have a…” but immediately after saying it he stopped and realized the rest of them, including the secretary, were watching him expectantly. His heart was racing.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, smirking as if he found the whole thing really amusing. There was a hint of pride hidden in those eyes, too, Castiel realized, and that gave him renewed confidence. “You guys are absolutely disgusting,” he said, “so yes, spending time with you is extremely dreadful for me or any human being with a heart,” he finished, and Gabriel giggled in response, while Balthazar looked at him, surprised.

“Did you finally grow a pair?” he asked, stunned.

“Hey!” Gabriel said, quietly, trying to stop the inevitable.

“Impossible,” Uriel said, ignoring his older cousin. “He lost the ability to be a man when he went all Sodom-and-Gomorrah in front of the whole family...”

“At Christmas Eve dinner!!” Raphael added, as it was something terribly offensive.

“Hey!” Gabriel said again, louder this time. Nobody paid attention to him.

“I still cannot believe how this sinful person can have the nerve to speak to us that petulant way,” Zachariah said, while his wife nodded in agreement. “He has no profession, no intentions to work in the family business, no aims in life, clearly no decency, and still…”

“Can you shut up?” Gabriel interrupted aggressively, visibly offended. Everybody went silent and Gabriel looked at Castiel, trying to make eye contact with him. When he realized it would be impossible, since Castiel was crimson and downcast, he continued. “He wouldn’t even talk to you if you weren’t such a bunch of asses to him,” he said.

Zachariah laughed. “You’re one to talk, Gabriel,” he answered. “You’re not much better than him: irresponsible, a womanizer, out of all reason.”

Gabriel chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s me, exactly,” he said. “I prefer discovering and learning about all the good things in the world, meeting all kinds of beautiful women,” he added, winking to the secretary, who rolled her eyes in response, “instead of, you know, marrying the first one that crosses my way only because they have money,” he pointed out. “I don’t know how you did it, Hester my dear,” he added, “I know my beloved Zachariah here owns a big company with hundred of employees, but he is still unable to stir any lust in anyone. Is his little friend down there as unattractive as his face? When was the last time you had sex? God, I’m so sorry for you…”

Even in his shame, Castiel had to look up in order to see their reactions. Did he lose his mind? What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t even process what was happening when he saw Zachariah getting up from the sofa, walking like a demon to Gabriel, who raised from his chair as well, both with their fists prepared to throw the first punch.

Hester started to scream at the exact time Doctor Frank Devereaux opened this office’s door. He looked at them all with an impassive vibe, as if the whole thing was a regular occurrence for him.

“I cannot believe you, honestly I can’t,” he said. “Please accompany me to the office so we can read the will Ms. Anna Novak left for you and we can put an end to this insufferable legal partnership,” he added, sighing deeply and entering his office again. The Novaks followed him slowly, entering the room one by one, as if they were hesitant to even touch one another while walking. Castiel, as usual, was left behind, but Gabriel was waiting for him at the office’s door.

“Are you crazy?” Castiel muttered and Gabriel smirked at him.

“A little,” he answered to Castiel, before entering the room together. The rest of their family were scattered all around the place. Even Hester and Zachariah were apart. “Problems in Paradise…” Gabriel added before parting ways with Castiel and sitting in the free chair. Castiel smiled at the joke, but remained standing close to the door.

Dr. Devereaux glanced at them, one by one, before showing them a big envelope, with a red wax stamp. “This is the testament. Are you prepared for it to be read now?”

Uriel, Raphael and Gabriel nodded, while Zachariah added, “Stop the preamble and do it now, I want to leave this place as soon as possible.”

Frank raised his eyebrows imperceptibly. “You say it as if you’re the only one who is unhappy here,” he mumbled while opening the envelope.

Zachariah smirked and Castiel cringed on the inside. The guy was sure he would be the chief recipient of the will, considering he was the oldest and the one with the most money and responsibilities among them all. He gave Balthazar, Raphael and Uriel good jobs in his company, too, so they wouldn’t complain if they received nothing at all (as Castiel thought was really likely to happen since their relationship with Anna was practically nonexistent). That would leave Gabriel and Castiel alone and unbeneficed, and the scenario couldn’t be more satisfactory for Zachariah than that. Castiel couldn’t think of anything more unfair.

“Castiel, are you ready too?” Frank asked suddenly, pulling Castiel from his thoughts. He nodded in response, seeing the rest of his family was staring at him again, and Frank coughed, accommodating his glasses.

 _“I, Annael Novak, of 4321 Corrington Ave, Kansas City, Missouri, declare that this is my Last Will and Testament.”_ Frank started, the whole room suddenly rapt with attention. _“Article One: I revoke all prior wills and codicils. I was married to James Novak, and we had three children together: Michael Novak, Charles Novak and Naomi Novak. My husband and all three of my children are dead, leaving the effects of this Testament to my grandchildren, named Zachariah Sandover, Raphael Novak, Uriel Novak, Gabriel Sandover and Castiel Novak. I was a sponsor of the Kansas Children's Hospital, and Wayside Waifs, the biggest animal shelter of the city…”_

“Is this important?” Zachariah interrupted, angering Frank in the process.

“Yes, it is.” He answered. “But if you don’t care about any of this, you can go outside and smoke a pipe. I wouldn’t personally suggest that, but it’s up to you.” Frank coughed again, interrupting his rant. “Can I go on?”

Zachariah nodded reluctantly, and Hester took his hand. Apparently they were pigeons in love again.

 _“...the biggest animal shelter of the city, and both Associations will be represented in my name by my attorney and personal friend, Doctor Frank Devereaux,”_ Frank said, pointing himself out with his free hand. _“All the references to my grandchildren and both Associations will appear in this document with their full legal names.”_

“What? The Associations?!” Uriel said, and Frank made him keep silent.

 _“Article Two: Specific Bequests and Devices.”_ Frank continued. _“I give my entire interest in the real estate property that was my residence at the time of my death, together with any insurance on such real property, to the Kansas’ Children's Hospital, in order for them to build a new oncology area.”_

“WHAT?!” Zachariah exclaimed, completely out of place, interrupting Frank again.

Seconds after that Uriel and Raphael started complaining too. “This is bullshit!” Raphael said, while the other one joined Zachariah in his rant. Balthazar laughed at their side.

“As far as I’ve heard, it involves sick children and Anna being benevolent with them, so if I had blood running through my veins I would shut up,” Gabriel said, preventing his brother and cousins from going on. Castiel was glad to hear him for the second time that day.

“I would really appreciate if you stopped interrupting me; this is not a kindergarten,” Frank said, and took the letter again. _“I give my entire interest in the real estate property I used as a second residence at the time of my death to Wayside Waifs, in order for them to construct a new dog shelter there.”_ There were interruptions again, quieter this time, but Frank didn’t pay attention to them. _“I give my entire interest in any personal musical instrument to my grandson Gabriel Sandover. Said list includes a piano, a harp, two guitars, a horn and a violin. I ask him to take special care of all of them, as well as to remember me while playing them in important theatres.”_

Castiel looked at Gabriel, who was visibly surprised by that announcement, on the verge of tears, and felt happy for him. He loved music, and was very talented, but he didn’t have enough money to chase his dream. Now Anna was giving him a chance, and Castiel was sure he would take it.

 _“I give my and my husband’s wedding rings to my grandson Castiel Novak,”_ Frank continued, _“because he is the most selfless person I’ve ever known in life and he deserves to be loved the most. I hope he will find a great partner and spouse, as great as James was for me.”_ Castiel blushed profusely but nodded when Frank stopped his lecture and looked at him, smiling affectionately. Castiel heard Zachariah and the rest of them complaining for the sin that would mean, the bad name a gay marriage would represent to their family, but Castiel paid no attention.

 _“I give the rest of my household goods, furniture, clothes, jewelry and tangible articles of a personal nature to the Kansas’ Children's Hospital,”_ a new general grudge in the background, _“for them to be used in its benefit. For Uriel Novak, Balthazar Novak and Raphael Novak, I give them the complete wardrobe of my deceased husband, hoping they will try to wear his suits as well as he did. Share them out as they please.”_

Gabriel smiled at that, and Uriel sent him a disgusting glare. He was so big nothing would fit him.

“None of those clothes are from good designers! Why would I want them?” Balthazar yelled, losing the petulant smile he has been carrying since the start of the meeting.

“Clearly your grandfather didn’t care about that,” Frank said.

“But I do!” Balthazar answered, his disgust completely out of place. “And that lady knew that! She is doing this to humiliate me! I won’t have it!!” he said finally, storming out of the room and closing the door with so much force its sound made Castiel jump a little.

“This is absolutely unbelievable...” Frank said, seconds later, and coughed before continuing. _“I give the entire interest of my personal business, the bakery ‘A Slice of Heaven’, situated in Overland Park, Kansas City, to my grandson Castiel Novak...”_ and, this time, it was the final straw for Zachariah. He stood up from his chair and threw all the things on Frank’s desk to the floor. Hester stood up with him, while Uriel and Raphael left the room without saying goodbye, muttering words of discomfort. Gabriel stood up and took the place besides Castiel, just in case Zachariah would try to hit him.

“WHY DOES SHE GIVE THIS IMBECILE A PROPERTY AND GIVES ME NOTHING?!?” Zachariah screamed, while Frank asked his secretary to call security.

“In fact,” Frank said, trying to calm Zachariah down a little, “she mentioned you here, but you wouldn’t let me read it. It says, let me look…” he read quickly up to a point, then started reading out loud. _“I direct my grandson Zachariah Sandover to pay all my funeral expenses, all state and federal estate, inheritance and succession taxes, administration costs and all of my debts, since he owns a big company and can afford such an amount.”_

Gabriel couldn’t take it anymore and burst out laughing, doubled over. Zachariah walked to him, while Gabriel was distracted, clearly intending to finish their previous confrontation. Before he could throw the punch, however, Castiel moved to stand between them, surprising Zachariah. Without letting him say a word, Castiel pulled his fist back, hitting Zachariah full in the face.

The whole room went silent in a second. Zachariah collapsed to the floor with his right hand covering his nose. There was a thin trickle of blood running from it, but Zachariah, far from looking hurt, was watching Castiel with eyes full of rage. Hester went to Zachariah’s side and helped him to his feet, just as the security guard appeared at Frank’s door.

Frank pointed to Zachariah and the guard went to him, taking Zachariah from his free side, and escorting both him and Hester out of the room.

“Do you think this is over, Castiel? It’s not over!! Nobody punches me and gets away with it easily!” Zachariah exclaimed while being pulled out. Hester kept caressing his arm, muttering that it was okay, but her husband paid no attention to her at all. Instead he was still looking at Castiel, who was massaging his sore knuckles.

“I don’t like conflict,” Castiel said then, before Zachariah crossed over the door’s threshold, and disappeared from sight. “But I like uncivil people even less. Have a good life, cousin. I hope I will never see you again,” he finished, and turned around to face Frank’s desk once more.

Gabriel closed the door, leaving the three of them alone in the office. It was silent for a few moments.

“Wow,” Gabriel said, breaking the silence, “thank you, Cassie, I didn’t see him coming and you saved me, being the complete and total badass I’ve never known you were!” he finished, sitting in his chair. Castiel was still in his spot at the end of the room, quiet.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t call me Cassie,” he finally said, walking to the other chair facing Frank, sitting on it.

“Sorry, it won’t happen again, _Castiel_ ,” Gabriel answered, and smiled at his cousin, who smiled back. Gabriel put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, as a sign of appreciation. He whispered his thanks again, and after Castiel’s nod, Frank sat down as well.

“Well, I thank you too, Castiel. He was driving me crazy,” Frank said, sounding relieved, and re-ordered the papers Zachariah had scattered over his desk. He took the testament again, and re-read it in silence for a while. “Can we continue with this? It’s almost over,” he said, and Gabriel nodded automatically.

“Is that a good idea? Everybody left,” Castiel asked, insecure.

Frank shrugged nonchalantly.

“Nothing happens, Castiel,” he said. “I will contact them later and we will have a meeting privately, separately I presume. If they don’t like what they’ve got, they will have to deal with it. Zachariah will have to pay for the expenses, otherwise he would have legal problems as a consequence. Don’t worry too much,” Frank added, and Castiel nodded.

“Won’t he try to sue me for hitting him?” Castiel asked again.

Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, God, please, kid, can you stop?” he said angrily, but when he looked at Castiel and saw how insecure he seemed he softened a little. “Nothing like that will happen,” he continued. “If it makes you feel better, I will put a restraining order for him not to be close to neither you nor the bakery. I will do the same to your other cousins, if you prefer. And if he tries to sue you for something like that, I will sue him for slander,” Frank sighed and repeated, “nothing will happen to you. You’re not alone.”

“Why would you put a restraining order on them if I was the one who hit him?” Castiel wondered, a little bit sceptic. “If anything, they could be the ones putting one on me.”

Frank shook his head. “I’m not talking about today particularly, Castiel,” he replied. “I have plenty of reasons why I could put a restraining order to them. Do you remember what happened that Christmas Eve they mentioned before? How they threatened your well-being after you told them about your sexual preferences? How they left you without a house so you had to live with Anna until you could buy yours?”

“I remember,” Gabriel pointed out. Castiel stayed silent.

“Remember how they left you without a work in the company after that?” Frank kept on talking. “Without any compensation? Just because of that?”

“I left the company,” Castiel cleared out.

“Oh God, you’re your own enemy, kid!” Frank complained. “You left because it was not what you wanted to do, but because they instigated you all the time. Isn’t that true?”

Castiel nodded, defeated.

“All he’s saying is true, Castiel,” Gabriel added. “My brother is an asshole, everybody with a brain knows that, and I would prefer being at your side all my life than choosing his. You’re a good person. You deserve Anna’s bakery, and they deserve the fucking restraining order too.”

Castiel looked at him, astonished. “You’ve never told me that,” he said, quietly.

Gabriel smiled, “What? That I liked you? You never asked me, cousin,” he answered, simply.

“It looks like Anna agreed with you Gabriel,” Frank interrupted, “because of the way the testament continues.” He adjusted his glasses. _“I leave Castiel my business because I firmly believe he is the one who deserves it. He looked after me in my worst moments, and he was always kind and supportive, caring and helpful to me. However, he seems aimless and thinks he doesn’t belong anywhere. I want to tell him he is wrong. I want to tell him he did, he does, and always will fit. He likes baking, and knows all my recipes, so I’m bequeathing him the bakery, knowing he will be able to keep up its success, and with hard work and patience, he will find his place in the world.”_ Frank finished.

Castiel had tears in his eyes. The day turned to be something he was not expecting at all. “I don’t know what to say,” he confessed. “I didn’t expect any of this…”

“Why don’t you start signing these forms.” Frank pointed at a couple of papers he had already prepared, and then took a new one. It had the words _'Real Estate Contract'_ across the top. “And this one as well. You,” he added, glancing at Gabriel now, “should sign these ones too.” He pushed a more forms across his desk toward Gabriel, “then you both will have to sign this _Declaration of Conformity_.” He indicated one last paper, covered in words Castiel didn’t bother to try to read. “This will ensure that your inheritance cannot be touched by anyone else. Unless you sell it.”

“No way in Hell would I sell my piano!” Gabriel said, taking the papers and pen from Frank and signing them frantically without reading them. Frank made a sound of discomfort at that, but Gabriel just said, “I trust you, old boy.”

Frank rolled his eyes and looked at Castiel, who was staring at the contract with a pen in his left hand halfway between the paper and his face. Frank didn’t know if he was absorbed in reading the contract or in a state of shock.

“I don’t know what she saw in me,” Castiel said suddenly, not moving, “I have no talents to run a business. I like baking, yes, I’m positive on that. But I don’t like numbers, and numbers certainly don’t like me. I don’t know how to deal with… people, how to communicate with them. I won’t be able to sell a single pie, or be the boss to anyone. I will go bankrupt. I can’t do this.”

“Oh God, listen to the very _Ode of Positivity_!” Gabriel said, returning the papers and the pen to Frank. “Haven’t you listened to the good Frank here, Castiel? You’re not alone! I will help you run the business. Frank will help too,” he said, and Frank nodded to confirm that he would help, “Anna’s employees aren’t demons, dude, they’re good people! Benny, Charlie… they’ll all help you too. Your success is their success, after all, don’t you think?”

Castiel thought Gabriel had a point, but he still couldn’t bring himself to sign the paper.

“Now, move your hand a little, unless you’re practicing to be a gargoyle,” Gabriel said, and moved Castiel’s hand until it rested on the desk.

“Sign the damn paper, boy,” Frank said, and after a final second of hesitation, Castiel complied. He signed the rest of them as well, and Gabriel applauded, as if he were a little kid who wrote his name correctly for the very first time. Castiel felt like an imbecile, but it was his own fault, not Gabriel’s.

“Well, it’s all settled,” Frank said a couple of minutes later, after reviewing the contracts and certificates. Frank filed away the paperwork, and Castiel and Gabriel stood up to leave. “Now all you have to do is wait a couple of days, and I will come to you with the property and the keys to the bakery.” He walked them both to the door and took Castiel by the arm, looking at him gravely, “I was serious about my offer of the restraining order. When I go to your house to hand you over the keys, I will make you sign that too. That ass won’t ruin the business Anna took her whole life to build, understood?” he announced, cryptically, patting both of their backs. “Now, leave me alone,” he said, and closed the door behind them.

“Wow, that was intense,” Gabriel said, guiding Castiel to the outside of the building.

“I can’t even start explaining how much,” Castiel added, before stepping outside. The sunlight shone down on him, warming his body. “I can do it.”

“Of course you can do it, Castiel!” Gabriel exclaimed, clearly enthusiastic by his cousin’s new found confidence. “It looks like the _Ode of Positivity_ needed sunlight to start performing, after all.”

That made Castiel laugh. He didn’t remember the last time he genuinely chortled at something that a family member said. The day was full of surprises.

“But, hey, check it out, all things considered… we ended up winning,” Gabriel added, confidently.

“It wasn’t a competition,” Castiel said

“Whatever. We have the stuff we wanted, they have nothing. It’s the same in my book. We even recouped our mutual respect. That’s big. I have my piano, for Christ’s sake, that lovely grand piano… I need to figure out where to put it… I might have to rent a bigger flat. I’m too big for that one room department already. Imagine with that piano!” The remark made Castiel chuckle again. “You have the bakery you’ve always loved, and those wedding rings. Oh, God, that was a great detail on her part, cousin. Diabetes inducing, but great. Just think about it, you’ll get married to a handsome dude, and you’ll bake chocolate cakes together and live happily ever after…”

Castiel’s smile vanished. He wasn’t so sure about that.

“Shut up,” Castiel said. “Nobody will ever want to marry me. I’ll carry both rings with me until I die.”

“Why?” Gabriel retorted. “Because you’re a little weird and socially awkward? Everybody is weird in their own way, you’re nothing special for that. If anything, you’re special for being a great person considering your family tree.”

“Apparently you think better of me than you should,” Castiel said.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a smartass,” Gabriel answered. “I won a potential girlfriend today, why wouldn’t you win a potential boyfriend in the near future?”

“A girlfriend?” Castiel repeated in surprise.

“Frank’s secretary. Dark skin, sexy legs,” Gabriel said. “Her name is Kali, and I have her number.”

“Poor girl,” Castiel said and it was Gabriel’s turn to laugh.

“Let’s go get some drinks in our grandma’s honor. Do you want to?” Gabriel asked, and Castiel agreed.

Castiel couldn’t know as he headed to the bar, how much owning the bakery would mean to his life.


	2. Rocky Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title refers to a kind of dessert made up of milk chocolate and marshmallows. It's served mainly as an ice-cream, but could also be cupcakes or brownies. You can find the recipe [here](http://www.alwaysorderdessert.com/2010/03/salted-rocky-road-fudge.html).

_Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc._ was a big company. No construction companies near Kansas or other states at the center of the country were as important as it was. Its executives were contracted to build skyscrapers, commercial centers, industrial parks, and even stadiums. Being part of that firm was a big dream for a lot of college students in general, not only architects or designers.

That was exactly Dean Winchester’s case. After a tough childhood, he succeeded in making it to Kansas University, earning his Accounting Degree with honors, years later. He tried his luck sending his CV to a bunch of different companies, and even when others called him first to schedule an interview with him, he declined them all once Ezekiel from _Sandover’s Human Resources Department_ asked for his services.

Two months and a couple of interviews later, Dean signed his contract as a junior accountant for the company. His brother Sam, as well as their foster family (Robert, his wife Ellen and her daughter Johanna) couldn’t be more proud of him, and organized a big party to celebrate Dean’s achievement. If Dean was asked about it, he would say that was one of the last opportunities he saw all his family together in the same room at the same time.

At first, it was because of Sam. Sam, who Dean has always wrongly believed was smarter than him and had managed to get himself admitted to Stanford University. He won a full scholarship, and left Kansas to chase the American Dream at the other side of the country. He came back home for Christmas, but spending just one week a year together was hardly the same as what they once had.

Then it got worse when Sam met his current girlfriend, a senior art student called Sarah Blake. She was amazing, Dean was completely sure about it, but her presence kept Sam in California even over the Winter Holidays. Apparently he loved visiting art museums with her on Christmas Eve, and Dean was not one to deny him the chance to be happy.

Although, that made him even more devoted to his job than what he initially was. Jo tended to tell him he was exaggerating, but she didn’t comprehend just how difficult their lives were before Bobby and Ellen adopted them. Dean always looked after his little brother when they were kids, and even when they were older and enjoyed the perks of belonging to a happy family, Dean was responsible for him by a personal decision. So, the fact of Sam being completely independent and away from him, made an impact on Dean.

Dean’s boss’ antics weren’t helpful, either. Crowley treated him almost like a personal puppet, forcing Dean to do all kind of different tasks (whether they had to do with numbers or not). He was so stressed at night that he couldn’t have dinner and went straight to sleep. Both Bobby and Ellen expressed their concerns at that, but Dean denied it all to them, making things a little rocky between Bobby and himself after his second year at Sandover.

When Dean got promoted from junior to senior accountant, things between him and Bobby hadn't improved, so he left home and rented an apartment in Sunset Hill, where nobody would pester him if he worked too much. Up to that moment, work devoured him. If Crowley or his other bosses wanted him to work at weekends nonstop, he would accept it without second thoughts. He even brought work home to the point of being unavailable to have lunch with his parents every Sunday, as he’d done for years. When he was free, he trained at the gym, or was updated on different kinds of diets, since one time Crowley told him _“successful businessmen had to be fit and strong”_. Dean wasn’t sure if he agreed with that statement, but what other thing would he do? He had nothing apart from work.

That day, when the alarm clock woke him up at six o’clock in the morning, it was only just another day. Or so he thought. Twelve hours of hard work were waiting for him, then gym, then a protein dinner, then bed. What more he could ask for? He was a professional accountant at an important firm, he had no time for anything else.

In the middle of his bath, his cellphone started to ring. Dean desperately dried his hands in order to pick it up (What if it’s someone from work? What if they needed something from him?), but once he read it was Sam, he groaned and left the cellphone on the sink again.

“I thought he knew better than calling me this time in the morning!” he said to nobody, and kept on washing himself up.

Once the bath was over, and he’d dressed himself in one of his black suits (his Armani, because being a fashionista was part of being a good professional), he checked his phone again and read he had three lost calls. Dean reacted with worry for not listening to the ringtone while bathing, imagining various possibilities where he was lectured by his boss for being irresponsible, until he checked all calls were from Sam. He rolled his eyes, since nothing could be that important, took his car’s keys and left the apartment. The silver Prius he bought a couple of months ago was ready to drive him there.

Half an hour later, after a stressful journey in the middle of the rush hour, Dean made it in time to Sandover’s building. He was greeted by the receptionist, a tiny blonde girl called Becky (Dean heard more than once she had a fondness for gossip, so he tried to be polite to her, but cold at the same time), and took the nearest elevator. His office was at the tenth floor, so he used the remaining seconds he had inside of it, alone and in peace, to check on his hair and tie. He had to look perfect in every moment.

The whole floor was dark when he arrived, since Dean was always the first one, at everything. Crowley told him he had to be, and Dean was glad to comply. He turned his office’s light on and walked to his desk.

The Cisco phone had a red light in its display. Dean checked to find he had twenty missed calls. Most of them were work related (Dean took note of everybody in order to call them later), but the last five ones were from Sam. Dean raised his face up and noticed everything was still dark, so he took the handset and rang his brother. After the seventh ring Dean realized there was no one at Sam’s house, so he tried the cellphone, but it was turned off. Dean sighed, apparently Sam was working or studying, and after all his insistence, it was nothing of importance, otherwise he would have picked up. Dean hung up and turned on his notebook.

A couple of hours later, he received an email from Crowley. “Sandover is waiting for you at 11 a.m. in the Meeting Room,” it said. That meant, a quarter hour to go. Dean felt his heart stop beating that very second. Why would any Sandover want to talk to him? Sweat drops rolled over his forehead. Could they know he called Sammy? Dean figured he deserved any punishment they would assign for him if that was the case, since he specifically signed a contract stating that any contact with family or personal businesses were not allowed while working.

Dean cleaned his face with his handkerchief and analyzed the rest of the possible reasons why he was called into in such a meeting. None of them were positive. Everybody at Sandover knew if one of the owners wanted to talk to you it was because either you were being fired, or you were about to be humiliated. If he had to be frank, Dean would choose the second option, hands down, because he preferred feeling mortified by people he barely knew to losing the job completely.

Dean breathed in and breathed out, mirroring the yoga exercises he practiced non-stop years ago when he tried dating his instructor, Lisa. Breathe in. Breathe out. Once. Twice. The clock showed 10:55, it was time to go. Breathe in. Breathe out. After closing his office’s door he remembered why things didn’t work out with Lisa. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. What if they have found out about his sexuality? Breathe in. Breathe out. With Lisa, he discovered he liked girls, sure, but he preferred boys. The whole thing was classified top secret at work, since he knew Zachariah Sandover was a notorious member of a Baptist Church and he wanted to avoid problems. He’d barely had sex in months, or more, his schedule didn’t give him free time, but he realized if that was the discovery, he was out of the front door in a couple of blinks. Breathe in. Breathe out. Dean arrived to the meeting office. Breathe in, deeply. Breathe out, even deeper. Dean opened the door.

The whole Sandover family was there. Zachariah, the patriarch and owner of the firm, his wife (Dean remembered her name as Esther or Hester, or something horrible like that), and a bunch of cousins or nephews Dean had only seen a couple of times in the past.

Dean breathed in and out, deeper than any other time before. As if it was the last time.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he coughed, “and you too, madam,” he added, looking Hester in the eyes. She made no attempt to answer him back and Dean felt like burying his head in the sand.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester,” Crowley said from behind him, surprising Dean, and entering the room as if he owned it. He sat beside one of the unidentified cousins, who was wearing a Gucci suit with grey rhombuses all over the fabric. Dean knew it was a ridiculous design, but a Gucci was a Gucci.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” the guy said, and Dean did as he was told, placing himself in between Crowley and the Gucci fan.

Zachariah didn’t take his eyes off Dean, with an impassive look, and that made him feel even more nervous, every passing second.

“I suppose you have no idea why we have called you here,” Zachariah said, in a plain tone, that made Dean cringe inside.

“Yes,” Dean said, sounding really nervous, “I mean, no, sir, I don’t know why you’ve called me here,” he corrected, using his best smile to cover his nervousness, that was evident in the sweat he felt under his suit.

Zachariah smiled, and far from being comforting, Dean thought he was about to be hypnotized by his duplicity.

“You were summoned, Mr. Winchester, because we have a little task to offer you,” Zachariah told him, and Dean settled himself on the chair, surprised to hear that. After all, it looked like he was not being fired for calling brothers or liking cocks.

“You see,” Zachariah continued, “our beloved friend here, Mr. MacLeod, is retiring in a couple of months,” Dean turned his face, astonished, to look at Crowley, who made a sign of assent and Dean returned to Zachariah again, “so we are testing different senior accountants to take his place once he is out,” he added, and Dean blushed by the implications of that statement. If he could, he would hit himself in the face for thinking someone would fire him in this company. He was supported and his work was taken into consideration there.

“I’m really honored, Sir, I will…” Dean started.

“The importance in this task is proving how loyal you are to this company,” Zachariah interrupted, loudly, and Dean blushed again for a totally different reason. “We won’t admit any good-for-nothing in a position of power here, so the first task you have to follow from now on if you want to participate in this competition is doing exactly what we tell you to do.”

Dean gulped loudly. He felt his body needed to do his yoga breathing exercises, because the nervousness was rising in him again, but he decided against it, choosing to resist a couple of minutes more.

He composed himself again and answered, seconds later.

“I will, sir,” Dean said, and he noticed Zachariah smiling. Dean thought he could be a good villain in a Batman movie, or a supernatural show.

“Good,” he said. “I didn’t think less of you, Mr. Winchester, since your work in this company has been more or less valuable up to this point, and it’s not something we could say of a lot of people,” he added, and Dean didn’t know if he should feel honored or insulted by that. He preferred leaving the doubts unresponded in his mind, though.

“I will do my best in any job you ask me to do, sir,” Dean emphasized anyway, to be sure his loyalty to the firm was clear.

Zachariah’s smile grew a little, and Dean’s feeling of being hypnotized intensified.

“Well, you see, the task I have prepared for you is a little personal, this is why my whole family is present with us in the meeting,” he said, pointing out at his cousins and wife with a movement of his arm. “We have this cousin, Castiel Novak is his name, that has a property I want,” Zachariah stated, direct and coldly. “Our beloved grandmother, may she rest in peace, left him a business, the bakery she had run all her life, but he is gradually ruining it with his lack of studies and common sense in business.” Zachariah continued, and Dean experienced a knot in his stomach. God forbid him from being his enemy…

“The idea is,” Crowley said, interrupting Zachariah, and looking Dean intensely in the eyes, “for you to go to Castiel’s property and reclaim it for us.”

Dean arched his eyebrows in confusion, clearly he was at a loss here.

“That would be… violent and, somehow illegal,” he said, and everybody’s eyes were on him in a second, as if he had said something terrible and out of place.

“That’s the job you have to do,” the biggest cousin said, dark complexion and angry look. Dean realized if the guy wanted to send him to the wall with a punch, he could do it.

“Uriel, easy, friend,” Gucci fan said, and he adjusted himself on the chair in order to look directly at Dean. “Don’t mind him, please,” he said, pointing at Uriel, “he is taking the situation like this because it affects us all, very deeply. Zachariah would explain it better than me, but we all really have our grandmother in our hearts and watching her business being run into the ground like that is hurtful. We want the best for everybody,” he said, in such a heartfelt way Dean almost noticed a couple of tears threaten to leave his eyes.

“Exactly, thank you, Balthazar,” Zachariah said, returning to his original speech. “Perhaps this makes you understand the situation better,” he said. “We love our cousin, we really do,” everybody nodded, “but his lack of experience has made him raise his debts exponentially with every passing year, to the point he had to ask us for a loan. Sadly, he spent it on extra expenses, and we never saw a cent of it again,” he sighed, and Dean felt he was tired. He could understand, somehow, family arguments were exhausting. “His lawyer made him believe that a restraining order against us would prevent him from paying us back,” Dean’s widened eyes in surprise at this, “and it worked for a while,” Zachariah continued, “but now that lawyer is dead, a stroke or something similar, with the restraining order about to expire, so it’s our time to make a reappearance to resolve this.” Zachariah sighed again. “As you may understand, Mr. Winchester, this situation has to end. Castiel is not a bad person, but he is… _special_ ,” he accentuated, “and he would need a fresh start, somewhere else, away from this city and far from the family he certainly doesn’t want to be close to. What we mean is, he really cannot run the business, and he is full of debts we can afford for him. If he sells us his property we can start a new project there, a project that would make our grandmother proud, and he would have his property’s money to start over.”

“To sum up, everybody is happy in the end!” Balthazar said, and winked at Dean.

Dean didn’t say a thing to him in return.

“I understand…” Dean replied, seconds later, feeling slightly uncomfortable about the whole situation (particularly about the glances the Sandover family gave him), and wanting to get rid of it all as soon as possible. “It certainly has nothing to do with my area of work,” he continued, “but I will try my best, sir,” he concluded.

Zachariah looked at him carrying his perpetual smile.

“In Sandover we want our employees to perform a first-rate productivity,” he said, “so we expect that you do your best, instead of _trying_ ,” he finished.

Dean felt the collar of the tie suffocating him.

“I will do my best,” Dean corrected, and Zachariah nodded.

Crowley lent Dean a folder with some documents, and Dean checked them, passing through the pages briefly. It had basic information about this Castiel Novak’s business, addresses and a map, and some drawings attached. Dean thought it was a misunderstanding, since they were blueprints of a giant building and they were out of proportion for a standard bakery’s piece of land.

“May I ask…” Dean started, doubting at first. He didn’t want to sound like he was an ignorant. “May I ask, what is this?” he repeated, pointing the drawings out. “I understand what they are,” he cleared up, before someone else could say it for him, “but I don’t know what the connection with my work is.”

Crowley took the folder.

“We forgot to tell you something,” he started. “The idea is to demolish the whole block and build an apartment complex. It is a big project that would give that part of town a new horizon, changing its current profile, modernizing it,” he concluded.

“Exactly,” Zachariah added, “our grandmother’s memory would be honored. We would use her land to construct the biggest building that town has ever had, it would be the beginning of the urbanization of that zone.”

Dean nodded. There were parts in Kansas City that still were full of trees and grass, small shops and spacious bungalows. Somehow Dean didn’t think it was a bad thing, as Sandover was trying to imply, but he was his boss, and Dean has learned he had to be a soldier at work.

“Our cousin is the most difficult negotiator,” Balthazar said, “and certainly the only one we cannot persuade face to face, because of the legal tricks he’s put on us.” He sighed, as if in pain for what he was saying. “The rest of the block has already been surveyed, and the owners have expressed their interest in us,” he said and everybody concurred.

“We are providing them with a payment they wouldn’t obtain somewhere else,” Crowley added. “Any smart person would say _yes_ to our deal. With their eyes closed.”

“Sadly, Castiel is not a smart person,” Uriel noted and his friend beside him laughed.

Dean ignored them both.

“How much does the bakery cost?” Dean asked before he could restrain himself.

Zachariah made a face of disgust, and Dean thought he had screwed up, until his boss answered him, “Castiel’s shop is by far the less valued property of the block,” he said. “We will be offering him a maximum of fifty thousand dollars.”

“And if he wants more?” Dean asked back.

“We won’t negotiate with him,” Zachariah answered coldly. “He knows our offer is the best thing he will accomplish. He can pay his debts with that, and go somewhere else. That’s what we want, and that’s what we will get.”

The awkwardness that invaded the room after that last statement was obvious for everybody, not only Dean. His breathing rate raised exponentially.

“Do you have something else to retort, or can we finish the meeting?” Zachariah asked, and Dean thought he was dying at that exact moment.

“No, no, sir, no,” he said quickly, trying to keep up the appearances. “I would never object any order you give me, I just…”

At that time an outrageous sound surprised them all, and only after the whole Sandover family stood up to look at whatever was behind him, Dean realized it had been the noise of the Meeting Room’s door, opening and closing quickly and firmly.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Zachariah yelled, leveling the door’s volume.

Dean turned around and saw there was a new person inside the room. He was short, dressed casually, coffee-brown eyes, dark blonde hair, and a haircut that reminded Dean of Sam’s. He couldn’t believe someone else in the world could have allowed themselves a haircut like that. He looked like a mini version of his brother, attitude included, apparently.

“I came here to talk to you, jeez, isn’t it obvious?” the guy said, mocking Zachariah. Dean hadn’t thought up to that point someone could do that and still be alive.

“Don’t you see I’m in the middle of a meeting?” Zachariah answered, and Dean could swear he saw flames burning in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I see,” the guy replied. “The whole Ingalls family, the Little House of the Prairie and all that… I couldn’t care less. You all, puppets, leave us alone, now.”

“You’re nobody to come and claim the place like this…” Zachariah yelled again.

“I’m your brother, I do what I want!” the guy replied, naturally.

“Gabriel!” Zachariah shouted, completely out of his element.

“NOW!” Gabriel shouted back, and automatically, as it was a magical word, everybody disappeared out of the room. Dean, however, was motionless on his spot looking in between Gabriel and Zachariah, who were battling with each other only with their eyes.

“I’m… I’m leaving, too,” Dean said, claiming Gabriel’s attention to him. “Good morning, sir,” Dean added before he could avoid it and, looking down, walked to the door.

Gabriel chuckled behind him.

“Look at this one,” he said. “At least he is well mannered. You manipulate him as everybody else, but he still has the guts to wish me a good day. What a freak,” Dean heard him laugh when he closed the door.

Dean looked at every side of the corridor. Nobody was there, he was completely alone. Everybody else disappeared, _like cockroaches_ , Dean thought internally, but then he rebuked himself. They were just avoiding a family crisis, and Dean knew very well how to do that.

When he came back to his office, he closed the door and dropped into his chair, looking at the folder in his hands. Why were they making him to do that? Why would he? “For the position, you fool,” he said out loud, to himself, trying to be convinced. “Climbing positions on this company is all I should care about, and all I will do.” But deep down, he knew there was something else behind that, and that the whole task had nothing to do with his talents as an accountant and everything to do with how much he let them control his actions to do what they pleased.

“Puppet,” he said, remembering Gabriel’s words, and opened up the folder again.

He scanned the pages more carefully now. There were photos of the bakery as well, and at first sight, Dean didn’t think it looked that bad as Zachariah described. A plain brick facade that looked inviting, a black sunshade covering it all up horizontally, a couple of tables and chairs to drink coffee outside, and a big white sign that said _“A Little Slice of Heaven”_ on it, with a piece of pie drawn in the middle.

“Apple Pie,” Dean said, remembering the one his mother made once upon a time. Ellen made a good recipe too, with cinnamon and sometimes with a touch of ginger that made it special. Dean didn’t remember the last time he tried one. Years ago, probably. Before starting his perpetual diet, most likely.

He left the photos behind, and kept on turning the pages. He looked at the address of the bakery, then, and froze. Santa Fe Drive… Bobby’s repair shop was there! Now that he remembered it, Bobby’s place was exactly in front of the bakery.

Dean left the folder and took his head on his hands in disbelief. Things couldn’t get any worse. Not only did he have to convince a crazy person to sell his shop but also avoid his foster father every time he had to go there.

The Cisco phone rang, suddenly. Dean turned his head to read the screen. It was Sam, again. Sam was the last thing Dean needed right now, but Sam was calling. Dean let it pass.

On the third call, though, Dean answered.

“What do you want?” Dean said, coldly. Any reminisce with Zachariah’s tone was a coincidence.

Sam was left unguarded on the other side of the line.

“Dean?” he said, seconds later.

“Yes, it’s me, Sam,” Dean said then. “And this is not the best time for you to call me, so, I’d prefer to talk later...”

“I have already called you a million times! When is it _later_ for you, anyway?” Sam replied. “A couple of months from now? When those people there stop exploiting you?” he said, and Dean’s unjustified rage raised after that.

“Shut up!” Dean said. “Nobody is exploiting me here, I’m fucking working to be better...”

“Better to whom, Dean?” Sam interrupted. “You left everybody behind, dude. Your family, your friends… you’re alone. With whom are you supposed to share your so-called success, then?”

Dean was speechless at that.

“You’re not even supposed to call me here,” he replied, avoiding Sam’s questions. “Call me later. I cannot talk right now.”

Sam cackled at that. “You wish…” he said, and then hung up on Dean.

Silence invaded him after that. It was the same silence he’s always experienced at his office, on a daily basis, but in this opportunity it meant something different that Dean couldn’t place. It didn’t leave him after work, while eating his lentils and lettuce, or having his bath. It didn’t even abandon him when, tired of feeling weighed down, he turned on the television and tried to focus on the nonsense Doctor Sexy was experiencing on that very episode.

He called Sam twice before going to sleep, without any success. Thinking his brother was avoiding him, as he has already done multiple times before, he finished his day. Some of his thoughts before he closed his eyes circled around about his father’s shop, and even about the stranger Castiel Novak. It had been an eventful day.

Silence never stopped, not even in his dreams.


	3. Apfelstrudel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The German name of our loved apple strudel. Check the recipe here

Waking up at five in the morning every day had, according to Castiel, its pros and cons. Although, in every imaginable scenario, Castiel thought the benefits of owning a food shop surpassed the disadvantages, without a doubt. For instance, Castiel groaned in bed when he had to wake up in winter, since weather in Kansas City was terribly threatening and cold, but after a big cup of strong coffee and a warm bath, he felt far more energetic and started a day full of satisfied customers and delicious smells. Castiel liked watching snow fall as well, and that helped to keep on going even in the coldest days. His apartment was twenty blocks away from the bakery, so he preferred walking there instead of using his Lincoln Continental. That way he would be able to see the sun rising and birds waking up and singing in every tree. Castiel enjoyed the simple things in life.

Watching the commercial centre wake up was another advantage he had. Overland Park had a lot of different food shops apart from his, so they all share more or less the same schedules. For instance, he knew Lenore from The Bar & Grill, and Hael from the Healthy Food Shop so if he had the chance to see them, he always waved at them with a big smile. They were good kids, and Castiel’s bakery was often the provider of different cakes and sandwiches that were specially baked to be sold in their shops, so they were great customers as well. All things considered, it was a good neighbourhood, full of lively, hard-working people.

There were exceptions, of course. Metatron, the owner of the supermarket around the corner hasn’t got along with Castiel since they started their business association. The real deal was that Castiel has been experiencing financial problems for some years, and his wholesalers were the first ones facing the consequences, directly.

Even when he loved his work, his employees, and customers, Castiel felt he had a sword over his head every time he sat down to organize the outstanding payments, or to clear his debts at least a little. And it was all his fault, of course. Most of his debts had begun because of his irresponsibility, his inability to think before acting, so he was stubborn enough to decide he had to be the one solving the whole mess. Sad thing was that he was not able to do it, and every time he intended to put a full stop on everything, he made the whole problem even bigger. Frank and Gabriel helped him at first, when debts were not as crippling as they were at that moment, but now Frank was dead, and Gabriel was a responsible married parent who didn't need Castiel’s problems to deal with, even if he insisted on it.

A lot had happened since Castiel was made owner of his grandmother’s bakery. For starters, the restraining order Frank put on his family was a success, and they left him live in peace, without their physical presence bothering him, at least. The bakery worked greatly, and even with debts, Castiel was able to handle it all. Frank was a big part of that, since he was as great with numbers as he was great with laws, and provided Castiel with a bunch of good alternatives to make the red numbers more bearable. Half a year ago, though, a stroke surprised them all and took Frank’s life without warning.

Castiel felt devastated at that. Frank was the closest parental reference he’d had since his father had died, and now he was alone again. Gabriel said Frank was always worried and stressed, and it was just a matter of time before his body sent him a last message, but Castiel preferred to think it was just another injustice of a world with an absent God that allowed kids and good people to be killed or suffer. When he was a kid, he used to be a believer, but not anymore.

As for Gabriel, he settled down with his girlfriend Kali, and opened a school of music, not far from Overland Park. They got married after some months of living together. Their ceremony was loud and exuberant, but only for close friends and Kali’s family. Castiel felt guilty for that, since Gabriel didn’t invite anyone from their own family apart from him, but Gabriel always told him off about it.

“Do you really think I wanted them at my wedding? They don’t dance!” he used to say to Castiel, every time he got to mention it. “I think the overdose of sugar you have in this store is making you bad in the head, buddy,” he said as well, often, ironically, eating a big piece of cake or the biggest donut on the counter, and Castiel smiled at that. He appreciated Gabriel’s presence and support, even when he was sure he didn’t deserve it. That’s why every time Gabriel wanted to buy cookies or chocolates for his baby daughter Mary, Castiel gave them for free.

Thinking about his life, Castiel walked to the bakery that particular day. It was windy and cold, so Castiel’s hair was all over the place and he had to fix it every once in a while. His fingerless gloves made the whole process more complicated.

“Are you having some issues with that messy hair of yours?” Castiel heard someone behind him say and rolled his eyes. He knew that voice, and it was the last thing he wanted to hear that day. Or any day, at any moment.

“Hello, Bartholomew,” Castiel said, once he raised his head and watched his face. The guy was smiling petulantly, as if Castiel were the luckiest guy in the world for breathing the same air as him. In turn, Castiel looked apathetic.

“Hi, Casty,” he said and Castiel cringed inside. He hated to be called that, and he had asked Bartholomew please not to do it, on multiple occasions, without any result. “Are you going to your shop?” he asked and Castiel nodded; given the time of the day it was obvious where he was headed, and there was a part in Castiel that prevented him from being impolite. “I’m heading to work too, we can walk together,” he decided without any previous consultation, placing himself besides Castiel and walking on his rhythm.

Those were the times Castiel wished he’d had special powers so he could disappear. Every single morning, it was the same thing. Whatever road Castiel decided to take, Bartholomew appeared in front of Castiel some blocks before the bakery and walked with him until, thanks to that God Castiel stopped believing in, he went his own way. _'The two blocks of Bart’s Doom,'_ Castiel’s employees called it. And it was not a lie. Castiel despised every second of those moments.

The problem was not that Bartholomew was unattractive as Castiel was sure somebody else would find him handsome and charming. The problem was that Castiel was absolutely not interested in pursuing a relationship with him, of any kind, not even a friendship, and Bartholomew knew it and never accepted it, insisting every day he had a chance, irritating Castiel as he had no idea.

Castiel always said _no_ to his advances, and Bartholomew’s answer was always the same one: “You’re still single, so I still have a chance,” which made Castiel want to smack him against a wall. That day was not an exception, and when he denied Bartholomew’s chances with him, hoping he would get the message, the guy laughed, ignoring Castiel.

“He’s determined, give him credit for that,” had been Claire’s opinion one day, and Castiel couldn’t disagree more with it. Kevin often agreed with her, but according to Gabriel it was because they were both young and as irritating as Bartholomew was. They usually got offended when Gabriel mentioned that.

“He is a stalker,” Charlie had said in other opportunity. Castiel partially agreed with her, only thinking she was exaggerating when she mentioned the existence of a real Prince Charming that would come and save Castiel from Bartholomew’s hands. He tended to disagree as well when she mentioned knives or machine guns to defend himself from the guy. It was clearly not necessary. And completely futile, since Castiel was convinced Bartholomew would come back as a zombie to keep on pestering him.

“He is an imbecile,” had been Benny’s opinion, and by peer influence, Gabriel's too. They were buddies in regards to that kind of subjects. “And a narcissist,” they had added, which was true as well. It was the opinion that was closest to Castiel’s, even if rude.

“I’ve found a restaurant, called _Le Fou Frog_ ,” Bartholomew said that day, in a fake french Castiel already hated, “that serves all kind of Gallic food and it’s delicious, perhaps we could go out there, tonight, what do you think?”

There it came again. Castiel sighed.

“It’s not my intention to be mean, Bartholomew…”

“Call me Bart,” he interrupted.

“Bartholomew,” Castiel emphasized. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I have not changed my opinion. I have no intentions of going out with you,” Castiel said and Bartholomew smiled cheekily. The bastard didn’t understand it was not a joke.

“Castiel!” he heard someone calling, and he couldn’t be gladder. It was Charlie, hollering from the bakery. “It’s cold here, please unlock the door!” she said, and Castiel found the perfect excuse to free himself from Bartholomew.

“I have to go, have a good day,” he said not looking back and running to Charlie, who was jumping with her arms up in the air, moving them from the left to the right, as if she was a cheerleader. Sometimes Castiel thought she was kooky.

“Finally!” she said once Castiel arrived, and hugged him strongly. Castiel hugged her back because there was no way he wouldn’t do it. She was kooky, but lovely. “I thought I would freeze to death waiting for you!” She scrubbed her hands vigorously.

“You know you own a set of keys as well, don’t you?” Castiel asked once he put his own in the keyhole.

“I know. But he doesn’t,” she answered and waved at Bartholomew, who was still watching them from a distance. Castiel had already forgotten about him. “We are acting here, keep the appearances,” she added and Castiel laughed, opening the door and letting her enter before him. Charlie was kooky, lovely, and clearly smarter than him.

“You’re safe and sound, brother,” Castiel heard Benny say and jumped in surprise.

“You could have told me you were all inside so I could have avoided the heart attack,” Castiel complained and Benny chuckled from behind the counter.

“I told you it was an act,” Charlie complained cheekily. “You never listen to me…”

“A play that happens every day, and never fails to be pathetic,” Benny said and Kevin nodded, while polishing the cups and glasses. Claire was cleaning the tables and taking down the chairs.

Castiel rolled his eyes and stood beside Benny, grabbing a notebook from below the cash register. He flicked through the pages, until he found the first blank one. He took a pen and started writing.

“Today is Thursday, so we will bake our normal stock of thirty cakes and twenty pounds of bread, plus the special sandwiches and cookies we cover every Thursday. Six dozens croissants, four dozens muffins, two dozens cinnamon rolls and donuts,” Benny announced and everybody gathered by the counter with him, agreeing.

“Did you make an inventory, Kevin?” Castiel questioned while noting the list down. “Do you think we need something else? Aren’t we overproducing?”

“We’re good with that, boss. We will sell it all, as we do every day.”

“The bakery is working really well, if you ask me,” Claire added.

“Not good enough if I cannot pay the debts I’ve incurred with Mr. Metatron and the rest of the whosalers, and if I still cannot figure out what I will do with the other ones...” Castiel said, sighing. Benny put both of his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, massaging them with his big bear paws.

“You’re really stressed, brother. You’re all stiff. Can’t you chill out a little bit?” he said, still rubbing.

“No, I really can’t,” Castiel answered frustratedly. At some point he groaned loudly at Benny. “Control your fingers, please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.

“You’re the one hurting yourself,” Benny replied back. “All you’ll achieve with your nerves and discomfiture is ruining your health. Take it easy, you’re doing as well as you can do. We will figure a way out of this, together.”

“I’m leading you all to disaster,” Castiel concluded bitterly.

“Shuddap. I watched High School Musical last night,” Charlie said, and her partners laughed at the remark, “and there was this song at the end that said _‘We’re All In This Together’_. It was cheesy and the choreography sucked but its lyrics made a point,” she declared.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Castiel confessed.

“That’s not the point!” Claire replied. “The point is we are friends, and co-workers. A team, basically. Your problems are ours too.”

The rest nodded in silence, all together. Claire led Kevin to their tasks, not saying another word. Benny stopped the massage session and turned Castiel around, looking him in the eyes. “Don’t be dramatic and start working!” he resolved and tapped him over the head before leaving the main room and entering the kitchen.

Castiel pressed his bruise while Charlie laughed at the spectacle.

“He has no ordinary hands!” Castiel complained in defeat.

“And you have no ordinary heart,” Charlie replied kissing him in the cheek and disappearing into the grocery room.

There he was alone again, all of a sudden, Castiel and his thoughts. They were wandering around the infamous debts, and the fact that his family would surely find a way to stick their noses into his life again once the restraining order expired in a couple of months, but Benny’s voice distracted him.

“Novak, will you come here to help me bake or will I be the only one getting my hands dirty with flour?” he said and Castiel left the notebook on the counter, along with his worries, following his friend.

Their schedule was simple and they tried to stick to it as much as possible. They had assigned their different tasks really well, likewise, and that allowed them to work like clockwork. Castiel was proud of his team.

When Castiel came to the bakery as the owner for the first time, he had no idea how to run the business or how to be the boss of anyone. He thought he lacked authority and professionalism, but in the end, it turned out that Anna was right. He opened himself up to be taught, and his employees became, like a thunderbolt, his closest friends and wisest professors.

Benny was amazing. He was cold with Castiel at first, but he admitted later to him he was giving him the cold shoulder to wake up the motivation out of Castiel. They became close friends in between recipes and anecdotes about Benny’s kids or Anna’s traditions at work. Charlie, for her part, was like a guardian angel. She was the first one getting close when Castiel became her boss, showing Castiel the main tasks and how they had been working up to that point. They got on well almost instantly and gradually she became a big confidant for Castiel. Kevin and Claire were college students, and the only employees Castiel took on as the bakery owner, impressed by their intelligence and responsible natures. Every time they passed an exam, Castiel gave them a day off as a prize and their smiles when that happened were enough reward for him. Claire had a particular sweet spot on Castiel, and called him _uncle_ at every chance she could. Castiel reciprocated her feeling, calling her his _niece_. Her smile when she listened to that was worth the white lie.

In essence, they were a family. The most compelling and healthy one Castiel has ever had. Bobby Singer, the owner of the Repair Shop across the street always said to him that family didn’t end with blood, and he surely believed in that.

“Let the Hunger Games begin!” Charlie yelled as she did every day before unlocking the front door and changing the Open sign put up on it, a couple of hours later.

“I seriously don’t understand what you talk about most of the time,” Castiel said with faux frustration, already placing himself behind the cash register.

“You should watch more movies, uncle,” Claire replied, turning on the background music and adjusting her apron. Castiel couldn’t deny his lack of pop culture knowledge so he said nothing back.

The flow of customers during the day was similar to others. Early in the morning the bakery received mostly workers that went through Overload Park and bought themselves a breakfast or sweets for their whole office. Closer to midday, people generally went to buy salty food, to sit and eat a quick lunch alone or in company. In the afternoon, customers chose all different kinds of pies and cakes, to carry home on their way back or eat at the shop with a hot coffee or a flavoured tea.

It was five in the afternoon when Castiel decided to take a strawberry tea to drink outside by the bakery’s windows. It was a habit of his, because he liked the fresh air hitting his face, no matter how cold it was. It was relaxing, taking some minutes of his snowed under schedule to go outside, wave at his fellow shoppers or acquaintances that were coming and going, and think in solitude about his problems. Charlie was more than capable to deal with the cash register while he was out.

Ellen Singer was at the car repair shop’s door, watching her employee Garth work on a Mustang. She was, in Castiel’s eyes, an amazing person, along with her husband and in Castiel’s books, they belonged together.

“Hey Castiel, good afternoon!” she greeted and Castiel nodded. He genuinely liked her. “When can I come over and show you some more pie secrets?” she asked, smiling.

Castiel chuckled; she always insisted on teaching him different tips and new recipes to use at the shop, and Castiel complied. They were a good team, Benny thought as much, and some of their current successful dishes were a direct consequence of her classes.

“Whenever you want, Mrs. Singer,” Castiel answered. “The bakery’s door is always open for you,” he added and Ellen blew him a kiss in response.

Then the roar of an engine distracted him. That particular street of Overload Park was circulated by tons of cars everyday, but Castiel could count with the fingers of one hand how many high-end ones parked around the zone. It was not a rich neighbourhood, being predominantly a rural one, so when he saw that luxurious Silver Prius just in front of his bakery he arched his brows.

By a fraction of a second he thought about Zachariah and his blood froze, but since it was impossible for him to be close to the store, Castiel breathed deeply and kept on guessing. The smoke glass windows didn’t help, but once the door opened he reaffirmed his worries had been completely baseless.

The driver was as opulent as the car he arrived with. Tall, with dirty blonde hair, wearing an elegant black suit and a red tie. He was wearing sunglasses, and in Castiel’s opinion, he looked like a supermodel, as ridiculous as that sounded.

The guy closed the Prius’ door, took his glasses off, and turned around, making eye contact with Castiel for the first time. His eyes were impossibly green, and Castiel felt kind of hypnotised by them.

The staring didn’t stop, up until the stranger coughed several times to clear a throat that probably didn’t need to be cleared.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Castiel said, trying to sound like a normal human being, and it was like the magical spell that left them both motionless broke at that exact moment.

The guy started walking towards the bakery not taking his eyes off Castiel, though. “Good afternoon to you too,” he said, with a deep voice that made Castiel tremble and winked at him, with a confident bravado, before disappearing inside the store.

Castiel was left alone with the Prius and a deep blush on his face. He threw the paper tumbler in the garbage can beside him and put his hands on his face, rubbing strongly as if the red in his cheeks could disappear like that. He looked at the repair shop, trying to gain a conspiratorial look out of Ellen, but he was surprised to discover she was not there. Castiel could have sworn she was still around a couple of seconds before, but then her spot was free and he only found Garth, who was not working anymore, but was motionless, with his mouth completely open, as if he has watched a ghost instead of a striking guy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Castiel asked Garth loudly, and the guy jumped, clearly not expecting his question.

“Nada! Nothing at all,” he said and ran into his shop, probably following Ellen. Castiel thought his reaction was the strangest thing happening to him since he woke up. But the day was not over yet and there were still chances for him to be bewildered, as he would soon realize.

The table closest to the bakery’s door was occupied by the guy, who left his satchel at the next chair and took a folder from it that he started reading. Castiel didn’t want to enter yet, and even when he knew it looked like he was spying on the guy, there was something inside him that told him it was okay if he did it. He leaned his back against the lamp post opposite to the store in order to see him better.

The guy was concentrated on reading the folder when Claire went to his table to take the order.

“Good afternoon, sir, here’s your menu, I will come back in a couple of minutes...” she started saying, reciting the speech she always repeated.

“No, no, it won’t be necessary,” the guy answered, interrupting her. “My diet doesn’t allow me to eat anything you offer here, please just give me a cup of coffee,” he said.

Claire’s expression suggested she was amused. Castiel knew her very well, she was on the verge of laughing at the guy’s face, but avoiding it as much as she could.

“Perfect, sir,” she said, writing on her notebook. “Do you want cream, sugar and chocolate on top?” she asked, clearly intending to mock the guy, who arched his eyebrows at the question.

“Just… Stevia, please. Note that down,” the guy answered, and Castiel scored a point on him for not being rude at Claire’s provocation. He would have to talk to her later.

At that moment someone nudged his side, making him lose his balance and stumble. The attacker took him by the hand, saving him from falling, and that was when Castiel realized it was Gabriel, who was laughing like a maniac.

“You were so deep into whatever is happening inside that I couldn’t miss my chance,” he said, cleaning the tears in his eyes with his hands. “Oh, God, you’re a mess, cousin. What are you doing here, outside, freezing like Jack Nicholson in The Shining?” Gabriel asked, jokingly.

“I don’t understand what...” Castiel started.

“...I’m saying, yeah, whatever,” Gabriel completed, his tone unimpressed. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“I’m watching the spectacle between Claire and the fancy guy at that table,” he pointed out, moving his finger discreetly. “As far as I could hear, he doesn’t want any food and Claire is mocking him...”

Gabriel moved to Castiel’s right in order to see the show better. “I don’t expect anything less from her, she’s our Baby Spice,” he said and then his smile suddenly disappeared. Gabriel stayed in his place for a couple of minutes, without saying a word, increasing his grimace with every passing second.

“Why that expression?” Castiel asked worriedly when he turned his face and discovered his cousin’s expression.

Gabriel didn’t answer him. Instead, he stormed into the bakery and went straight to the guy’s table, taking him by the collar of his shirt, and pushing him against the wall.

“What are you doing here? Did he send you to ruin our lives like the puppet you are?” he yelled while everybody else (customers and staff alike) stood up from where they were and came close to the fight. Castiel wanted to enter the shop, and tried to make some space in between the lurkers, but the bakery’s door was completely stuffed with people.

“Gabriel, stop!” he screamed from outside, more than once but every attempt was futile.

The guy, already recovered from the surprise, shoved Gabriel away and used his freedom to fix his tie and suit. “I’m here to do my job,” he said, petulantly, “so if you let me...”

The guy couldn’t complete his sentence because Gabriel hit him full in the nose and the blow was so strong he fell on the floor, right by the door. The people standing there ran immediately outside, and Castiel found himself surrounded by his customers.

“Leave, now!” Gabriel ordered, while his opponent took his nose with his left hand.

“He’s bleeding,” Castiel heard some of the customers mumble, and screamed for Gabriel to stop again, without any result.

The guy stood up with difficulty, keeping the hand on his nose and the other one on his knee. “Leave!” Gabriel repeated, ignoring the attempts Benny was making in order to move him away. Instead, he closed the distance between him and the guy and pushed him outside the bakery.

Gabriel tore the folder from the table and the satchel from the chair. He threw them out the door with as much force as he used on the guy himself. The satchel hit the poor car, and Castiel wondered if it had done some dents on it.

The guy crawled and took his belongings, standing up again and opening the car’s doors. Before he could get in it, Castiel met his eyes for a last time. It was different at that moment, his was a look full of resentment, shame and mortification. Castiel noticed there was indeed blood on his nose and part of his potentially expensive shirt.

“I’m really sorry for the scene,” he said, not leaving Castiel’s eyes. Castiel nodded and the guy disappeared inside the car.

“Drive off and don’t even think about coming back!” Gabriel got in the last word. Everybody but Castiel turned to look at him again. The car’s window descended and the guy flipped his middle finger off to Gabriel before raising it again and turning on the ignition.

The car got merged with the rest of the traffic, Castiel watching it until it took the next avenue. He heard Charlie tell the customers to come back inside, and Kevin righted the tables and chairs that were moved in the commotion.

Once everybody was in their places again, Castiel noticed a couple of sheets on the sidewalk. They were probably from the guy, so he walked to them and took them. To his surprise, they contained accounting information of the bakery, and a detailed drawing of an apartment complex, with a big _Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc._ sign on it.

Castiel felt his heart racing, and sat on the ground, with the papers still in his hands. Gabriel sat beside him a couple of minutes later, taking the papers in order to read them.

“Now I understand, thanks,” Castiel said, after some moments of silence. “You just,” he sighed, “you didn’t have to do that, Gabriel, hitting him like that I mean, humiliate that person in front of everybody… Zachariah will never see the end of this...”

“Really, Castiel?” asked Gabriel. “Since when does Zachariah worry about his employees? Stop worrying about everything, this had to be done. Your happiness is my happiness, nerd. You’re the only family I care about, Zachariah won’t take that from us, not even if I have to hit someone we won’t see ever again in public,” he resolved as if it was a normal thing, and took Castiel’s head in his hands, kissing him in the hair.

“How did you know he worked for Sandover?” Castiel asked.

Gabriel growled, as if the mere thought of what has just happened disgusted him. “I’ve heard some rumours, that he discovered your financial problems and he would come back here to pester you once the order expires,” he explained. “So I went to his office last week, to intimidate him, and he was in a meeting. With the whole sect. I entered the meeting room without permission and I saw the guy there, with the rest of them. It looks like he is the soldier they selected to perform their task this time.”

“He couldn’t even wait for a couple of months more and do it himself,” Castiel said, resigned. Gabriel chuckled and said nothing. “What will we do?” he asked.

Gabriel remained quiet for a time, thinking about the situation.

“We will find a good lawyer, a really good one that can help us. Leave it to me,” he said, still confident.

“Someone whose fees are cheap,” Castiel answered. “I cannot afford an expensive attorney and you know it,” he finished.

“I know,” Gabriel ratified. “We will sign a new restraining order and he won’t be able to bother you again. And if that guy appears,” Gabriel added thinking about Zachariah’s employee, “I will kick him in the balls, it will hurt him more.”

Castiel laughed at that. “We will figure it out, won’t we?” he asked, unsure.

Gabriel stood up and cleaned his jeans from the ground’s dust. “As we always do,” he said and entered the store again.

Castiel followed him minutes later, and when Charlie hugged him behind the counter, as a sign of comfort and friendship, he knew he would fight for his shop, no matter how hard it turned out to be.


	4. Tiramisu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian coffee-flavoured dessert. You can check the recipe [here](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/21412/tiramisu-ii/).

Immediately after his fight with Gabriel, Dean decided to go and check his nose in Dr. Moseley’s office. She was a friend of his foster parents, and before that she had been friends with his real ones, so Dean could say they knew each other very well.

Dean reckoned as well, that if he appeared in front of her and told what had happened, Bobby and Ellen would know firsthand he’d been the victim of an accident, if anyone at the repair shop hadn’t figured out already. That was a disadvantage, taking into account Dean took all the precautions he could for them not to see him, and checked that the repair shop was parents-free before coming out of the car, but Dean didn’t trust anyone else with his health. Deep down he knew they would find out eventually, anyway, and as a result they would be even angrier with him. What more would Dean do? Life for a successful professional was bittersweet like that.

Since he was apparently the luckiest unlucky man alive, the waiting room was a complete and absolute mess. Missouri shared her medical center with other doctors, whose patients were all together in the same room, waiting to be called out, so while kids were screaming and running all over the place, adults were exasperated and praying to be out as soon as possible.

That was Dean’s case, worsened by the fact that after he crossed the door, everybody’s eyes were on him, and particularly on his bloody shirt and nose. He sighed deeply, gathering all the strength he could, and walked to the receptionist’s desk. Dean heard the kids mumbling about him while he walked and thought he couldn’t be luckless until the receptionist raised her head up and he realized it was Jessica.

“Dean Winchester!” she exclaimed and all of a sudden the kids stopped screaming. “What has happened to your nose!?” she said, standing up and going to check on him, with a concerned look.

Dean put his hand on the space between them and made her stop.

“It’s nothing, just a work misunderstanding, thank you, Jessica,” he replied coldly, and her expression changed completely after that. She went to her chair again and looked at the screen of the computer, even when she was talking to Dean.

“It was true what they said, that you’ve changed a lot, and not for the best,” she said gravely, Dean speechless at the other side of the desk. “Dr. Moseley has two patients before you, she will call you after that, Mr. Winchester,” and kept on doing her tasks, ignoring him completely.

“Don’t you need my card...?” Dean started to say.

“It’s not necessary. I have all your information on the system, sir,” was Jessica’s answer.

“Jess…” Dean tried later, feeling a knot in his stomach all of a sudden.

“Mr. Winchester, please take a seat, I have work to do,” Jessica answered, final.

Defeated, Dean went and sat at the corner of the room, besides an old lady who looked at him as if he was the most impolite gentleman of Earth. She was probably right. His problem was not Jessica, obviously. She was a great girl, and one of the best girlfriends Sam had ever had. He just was angry and wanted to be left alone.

After twenty torturous minutes of wrathful glances and little kids stomping over his feet, where people came and went, Dean’s name was called on the intercom, as Jessica had said. He stood up and walked to the consulting room number eight. Dean tried to glance at Jess, to mutter a “sorry” or something that would make him feel a little better, but she never looked back at him, intensifying Dean’s knot. It got worse when he spotted Missouri, a black middle-aged lady whose irascibility was all over her features.

She let Dean enter the room and closed the door behind him. Dean turned around to face her, only to receive a powerful smack on his head.

“What the hell?” Dean asked, completely thrown.

“What did you say to Jessica?” Missouri asked while walking to her chair, completely impassive to Dean’s aggressiveness.

“What the fuck?” Dean asked, already nervous because he knew what game Missouri was playing at that moment and he didn’t like it. “I didn’t tell her shit!”

“No. You just acted like one,” Missouri answered and Dean blushed at that. “She wanted to check on you, because she cares. And you pushed her away. I don’t remember either Bobby or Ellen teaching you to be like that.”

“How the hell did you know? Were you using your fucking psychic powe—“

“Jessica told me. I’m a regular woman who uses the phone to talk with others as well,” she replied, pointing out to a telephone in her desk.

“To be honest, I didn’t come here for you to lecture me,” Dean answered, trying to lower her defenses, without any result. She seemed unaffected by his words. “I came here to be checked, my nose is broken, if you don’t mind looking at it…” he added, pointing to his nose.

“Your nose is perfectly fine,” Missouri answered, calmly. “Your head is what needs some sort of treatment, dumbass,” she ended and lowered her vision, writing something on a notebook by her desk, as if Dean’s presence didn’t bother her at all.

“How can you know that without examining me or something?” Dean asked back. “And don’t tell me it’s just your powers or whatever you have because...”

“If you had your nose broken you couldn’t even open that big mouth you have to say the stuff you say,” she answered, calmly, putting the notebook aside and resting her chin on her hand. “Whoever hit you didn’t do it as hard as you believe. And I would have particularly applauded them.”

Dean’s anger was increasing with every passing second.

“You never told me you hated me that much, Missouri, seriously clapping at the asshole who did me this? What the hell?” Dean asked and tried to walk to the door, but Missouri was in front of him in a second, blocking the way out.

Dean stopped and she took him by the shoulders.

“How can you say I hate you, boy? Can you understand the level of stupidity you’re suggesting here?” she said. “I love your family and I’ve known you since you were a kid. I know who you are and I know what kind of values the old Dean had… and this is nothing like that. You, right now, you’re the shadow of who you used to be. If the old Dean was hit on the face he would have hit back and would have laughed about it, he wouldn’t have come here to show how much of a disaster his trendy shirt is. He would have shared a beer with his dad, or his brother and spent an afternoon watching the sun going down with no worries or a wrongdoer of a boss telling him what to do...”

“Don’t say that, you have no idea who my bosses are...” Dean tried to answer, lowering his voice as well, and Missouri rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps nobody made it official yet, on TV or newspapers, but rumours in Kansas know Zachariah Sandover really well, kid, and I think you should pay more attention to them, unless the brainwashing he exposed you to was so strong you cannot do it...” Missouri suggested and ushered Dean sit down again, retaking her own seat.

“Nobody accepts the fact that I work there and I’m successful at what I do… you all look so jealous and resentful… Sam can work miles away from here and be a complete success while I’m cussed because I’m trying to do the same...” Dean started and Missouri took his hand, stopping his speech.

“I don’t think you’re getting what everybody is saying here, Dean,” she answered. “Your parents, Sam, me… everybody is worried about your health and the lack of life you’ve had since you started working there. The way that work has consumed your lively personality, your passions in general. We don’t want you to be a failure, we all want you to be the best at whatever you do, but to keep the big heart you’ve always had, to see you smile and have fun...”

“Shut up, Missouri, I do all that...”

“Nobody sees you doing that, because you’re on your own all the time,” Missouri replied. “Why would you want to be a successful person if you can’t share it with someone else? Bobby hasn’t seen you since you moved out, how can that be possible?”

Dean said her nothing, staring at their joined hands, Missouri’s warm and gentle.

“Does this hit have something to do with your personal life or...?” Missouri started again.

“Work,” Dean answered before she could finish her question.

“Why?” Missouri pushed, and Dean closed his eyes.

“Because I went somewhere to convince them of selling their property to Sandover,” Dean answered, raising his face. “I couldn’t see the owner as I was supposed to, but someone else discovered what I wanted to do and reacted like this,” he finished.

“Since when are you Sandover’s henchman?” Missouri’s asked.

“It’s my job, don’t you understand?” Dean answered, raising his voice again.

“Your job is working with numbers, Dean, you’re an accountant! You help people, save their businesses from financial crisis... you don’t doom them,” Missouri replied back, and squeezed Dean’s hand, as a sign of support. Dean said nothing back, and the room was silent for a couple of minutes.

Missouri released Dean’s hand and placed herself better on her chair. She snapped her fingers in front of Dean’s face, who looked back at her. She took both his hands again, facing his palms up.

“I know you don’t like this, but your mind is a mess, let me help you,” she said and Dean tried to free his hands from her grasp, without any success. Missouri’s grip tightened, and Dean had no other chance but to let her control the situation. “Why are you so afraid of the supernatural, boy? You used to love my stories when you were a kid,” she said.

“I loved them when you didn’t use them on me...” Dean confessed and Missouri smiled.

“And because you know I’m always right,” she added and focused herself on reading Dean.

She spent some minutes doing it, in silence, while Dean sweated profusely in front of her. He didn’t want to tell her she was right in that last comment she made, but somehow he knew Missouri already knew his opinions.

“Look at this,” she said, and Dean trembled. “Your fate line says today is a really important day in your life, the beginning of something completely new,” she declared and Dean chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Missouri, you’re making that up,” he said, skeptically.

“I never do that, idiot, I take this work as seriously as my medical one,” she answered coldly and Dean shut up. “It looks like from now on you will make transcendental decisions that will define you for the rest of your life. You will lose, and you will gain. Losses will be significant, but what you will gain if you make the right choices will be invaluable.”

“Are you talking about work? Will I get my promotion?” Dean asked as if the conversation he just had with Missouri haven’t had happened at all.

Missouri sighed. “What promotion?” she said.

“Sandover promised me a promotion if I accomplished the job,” he answered.

Missouri arched her eyebrow. “Oh God, seriously Dean...” she said, shaking her head. “Do you really not understand he is using you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I want the promotion, Missouri,” Dean answered, high-and-mighty.

“Then you will have to decide if it’s worth the sacrifices you will have to make for it,” Missouri resolved, dismissing Dean’s insistence. “It’s what is said here, I’m not making it up,” she added, racing Dean’s hands. Once she knew Dean wouldn’t try to leave again or wouldn’t say anything new, she kept reading his palms. Seconds later she laughed.

“What now?” Dean asked, sounding tired.

“Did you meet someone, by any chance?” she asked, with a teasing inflection in her tone.

“Someone like what?” Dean asked back. Missouri said nothing and looked at him as if he was dumb, working like magic. Dean was sure she had magic. “As a fuck buddy?” he asked.

“Fuck buddy? Who are you, an _Axe_ advert?” Missouri said and Dean smiled.

“I’ve not met anyone, Missouri. I’m sure I will in the future…” Dean started.

“No, it says here you have already met them. Present line, not future,” she said, confusing Dean completely. He honestly had no idea how to answer to that. So he decided to be an ass, it was his easiest way to escape from every uncomfortable situation.

“Your powers are on the fritz, I’ve not met anyone,” he said. “As long as I know, _Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except From Me And My Monkey_ , or in my case, _Me And My Wallet_. You won’t discover shit reading my palms,” he joked trying to sound funny and even made a duck face but Missouri was unimpressed. His _Blue Steel_ expression never had an effect on her. “Oh, c’mon, you know nothing about rock! John Lennon, fucking Jesus!”

She released Dean’s hands and got up of her chair.

“That second you pulled that ridiculous face and started talking about music, that’s the old Dean I remember,” she said proudly and went to the door. “There’s hope for you, apparently, that’s what I wanted to bring out of you. Now go to your house and think about it.”

She opened the door but Dean didn’t attempt to stand up.

“Will you dispatch me like luggage without a prescription or pills to take?” he said.

“Your nose is fine, if it were broken you couldn’t even talk to me. Let me see,” she took him by the nose and examined it, moving it from right to left, up and down. Dean groaned, but he later admitted it was mostly because of Missouri’s pressure. “Can you breathe properly?” she asked while examining his eyes and Dean nodded. “My diagnosis is you wanted to play Chuck Norris and you got your nose swollen. Apply some ice on it and that’s all. Now move that I’ve spent half an hour with you here, and I have other people to check. It’s time for you to deal with your problems alone, I’m not your godmother, Cinderella,” she replied.

“And if it leaves a mark, a bruise or something…?” Dean insisted.

“Make up will do you good,” she decided. “Seriously, leave. I have patients waiting that are really sick. Your sickness is somewhere else, and your palms told me you will figure it out in time.”

“That was creepy,” Dean answered, standing up and walking to her.

“Your face is creepy,” Missouri said back, when she was in front of Dean. He showed some signs of uncertainty, so she took him by the shoulders. “You want to hug me? The old Dean hugged a lot,” she said, smiling, and Dean complied. The hug was short, but meaningful.

“How many times did we have this conversation?” she asked him once they were untangled.

“Millions of times,” Dean muttered, looking everywhere but at Missouri.

“Will this time make the difference?” she asked and Dean’s discomfort labored his breathing. It was for entire different reasons than last time at the Sandover’s meeting room.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking at the floor. “Goodbye Missouri.” Dean left the room, not looking at her again. Once he reached the waiting room he glanced around for Jessica but she was nowhere to be seen. Dean realized the whole room was watching him again, even more the new people who entered while he was in the consulting room, but contrary to the last time, he didn’t care. Missouri made great work of making him feel guilty.

He went to the car and, after closing the door, he felt as if the pressure of the day were suffocating him and started crying. A lot had happened, and he thought tears would help him to release his frustrations. He spent several minutes hunched over the steering wheel, hiding his face in his arms until no more tears came and the headache he had developed had ebbed. Then he decided to go back to his apartment.

That night he went to sleep without eating, taking a bath or changing his clothes.

The weekend was no better. His telephone never rang, which was not an uncommon situation for him on those days, but Dean found it somehow more unbearable than ever before. He tried to concentrate on the office tasks he had on hold, but he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. Every day he went to sleep with a sense of incompleteness he couldn’t avoid, and that didn’t disappear when he started working that Monday.

Following Missouri’s advice, he hid his nose bruise with makeup on the first days the best he could, and most of his co-workers never noticed, which was a good thing. Probably that had to do with the fact Dean was alone in his office most of the time, but he didn’t think about that. Crowley did notice, however, and after several tries of taking the truth out of Dean, and Dean denying it again and again, he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Gabriel hit me in the nose,” Dean said, feeling completely embarrassed, a couple of days later. “The first time I went to the bakery, he saw me and recognized me from that time he came here, I didn’t stand a chance.”

Dean thought he couldn’t feel worse, then Crowley laughed at him. Dean felt really stupid, all of a sudden.

“Who’d have thought Gabriel would give you such a hard time!” he said, as if it was the most hilarious thing he’s heard in days. Perhaps it was, Crowley didn’t sound like the kind of guy who had a lot of fun.

“Sorry sir, it won’t happen again. It was just a misunderstanding, I will do better from now on,” Dean said, in a hurry to sound completely like the brown-noser he was.

“I hope,” Crowley answered, all remains of his smile disappearing. “We come here to work, and create new financial goals. This is yours now. You’re the hunter, he is the duck. You shoot at him and bring his dead body to us, understand?” he finished, cruelly.

Dean was taken off-guard at that last statement, and he found out he did want that conversation to end as soon as possible. If Crowley left his office as well and never came back, all the better.

“I do, sir,” Dean answered though, in an attempt to put a full stop on the whole thing. He was feeling really uncomfortable at Crowley’s gaze.

“When will you go back to that pigsty place?” Crowley asked, and Dean looked at him dumbstruck. The bakery didn’t look like a bad place to him, but he thought better than pointing that out.

“Today, sir,” he said instead, and he felt even more stupid than before.

Crowley raised his lips arrogantly. “Perfect,” he said, and walked to the door.

Dean thought he was being finally lucky and he would be left alone until he saw Crowley turning around again.

“Remember you have three months to do this,” he said. “If you don’t achieve it up to that point and the restraining order expires, we will execute it for you and will demote you to a junior position again,” he said and Dean froze at that. Was Crowley threatening him? “It sounds bad, I know, but I trust in your talents,” Crowley added then, sounding flattering. “I’m sure you will make it. But Castiel will not make it easy for you; he’s so stubborn he’d refuse help if he were sinking in quicksand. So use whatever weapon you consider. Accuse him of being a tax debtor, or health code violations at the shop… homosexuality activities in his workspace, which probably wouldn’t be a lie…” he laughed. “We don't care what you say to him, as long as you achieve the task as we told you to. Have a nice day, Mr. Winchester,” he finished and left the room.

“What the fuck?” Dean muttered to himself after some minutes of being literally immobile in his chair. “Homosexual activities? Is he serious?” he added, in a whisper.

Dean took the coffee cup on his desk and drank a little, realizing it was already cold. “Shit,” he complained, and went to the kitchen to prepare a new one. Hopefully he wouldn’t see Crowley or anyone else there.

That day was one of those days he wanted to disappear from the building as soon as he could, no matter how hard he wanted his job and success, or how hard he has worked to obtain it. The whole bakery thing was starting to feel a little weird for Dean. Those nasty words spread in regards of the owner, their determination to own the place and make Dean act as a the pawn of a group of despots who didn’t hide the fact they were cold and tyrannic, and lie in their name no matter what… it was not what he thought it would be at first. Apparently he was in the middle of a family quarrel he didn’t want to participate in. Dean already had enough with the cold shoulder his family was giving him.

When he came back to his office, Dean used the rest of the morning to reconcile some sheet accounts that were pending to be analysed and the colossal amounts of money he was working with made him remember Missouri’s words, which increased his nervousness. He left his work aside and started surfing the Internet in order to take a rest.

The random Google searches he was doing led Dean to type _“A Little Slice of Heaven Overland Park”_ in the search bar and chuckle when he discovered the bakery had a webpage. Dean, of course, clicked on it and to his surprise, it was a pleasant site to view, full of pastel colors and an easy navigation. Dean found himself smiling in the news section that talked about original recipes the bakery was adding to its menu, or gastronomic news in general. Dean lost himself on the website for a while, reading its articles, without even noticing.

That’s when he saw the _“About us”_ section, and Dean clicked instantly on it. He didn’t want to reckon the fact to himself, but he has been secretly interested in the infamous Castiel Novak since his first attempt of pursuing a meeting with him, as someone he really wanted to know. Dean assumed he was an interesting person. If he brought those nasty thoughts from people like Zachariah Sandover, he had to be a guy worth making an acquaintance of. The guy was surely an old funny grouch and Dean would have some laughs at his expense. He clicked on the section thinking he would find a picture of him to illustrate it, but, as he supposed, good luck was not in his plans that day.

“Fuck,” he said, while watching the page had some member pictures on it, but the Castiel Novak one, as well as the one of another guy called Kevin Tran, were not available. Dean hovered the mouse on the Castiel spot, trying to reload the picture, then right clicking on it, and refreshing the page, with no results. Both pictures were inaccessible.

Below the pictures was the bakery’s phone number, and then Dean remembered the task he was assigned, and how it went last time when he appeared unannounced. Perhaps this time he had to do things differently, and prevent, for starters, to be at the place at the same time Gabriel was around. His nose would appreciate it.

Dean picked up his phone and dialled the number on the site. On the fourth call, a girl picked it up.

“ _A Little Slice of Heaven_ , my name is Charlie, what can I do for you?” the woman said, and Dean chuckled at that. It sounded professional, for a bakery that was bankrupting and completely disorganized, as he was told.

“Good morning Charlie, my name is Dean Winchester, I may need to talk with Castiel Novak,” he said, and waited a couple of seconds until the women answered to him again, in a more suspicious tone.

“Who may I say it’s calling?” she said.

“I...” Dean coughed, “I need to talk to him, lady, for a business operation so profitable he won’t be able to refuse,” he said, thinking that would persuade her like that. However, he heard her groan.

“What kind of business operation?” she replied, and that took Dean by surprise.

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you that. Could you please ask your boss to pick up the phone?”

“Shit, now I understand, you are the guy of the other day! The broken-nose guy!” she said, and Dean thought she couldn’t yell any louder. Some others gathered around her, or that’s what the whispering Dean was hearing over the phone suggested.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” Dean said, trying to gain her attention again.

“Are you from _Sandover Inc._?” she asked, in a clearly angry tone.

Dean doubted, but immediately regained his confidence. “I will only answer that kind of questions to your boss, miss, so I hope you can pass me to—”

“Oh my God, Zachariah Sandover… can you stop? Leave us in peace, I’m hanging up right now!” Charlie said, and that was exactly what she did, leaving Dean alone, with the phone in his hand.

He didn’t react at first, since Charlie’s behavior took him completely by surprise, but some seconds later Dean laughed in his office, product of the incredulity. “I’m not fucking Zachariah Sandover,” he said to himself and dialled again. If Charlie picked up, he would try to convince her with a white lie or two.

“Hello, Dean,” he heard instead, after the second call. It was not Charlie’s voice, but a deep one that made him tremble. It was serious, rough, like a smoker.

“Um… hi,” Dean answered, feeling himself completely out of advantage. “You are Castiel, aren’t you?” he asked, before he could avoid it.

“I am,” he answered, coarsely. “What do you want from us?”

“I want nothing, sir. I’m just doing my job, I...” Dean tried, feeling his heart beating extremely fast. He was not prepared for this kind of confrontation. “Look, I don’t know what you know about me, I’m just a Sandover employee...”

“I know that,” Castiel answered. “You’re just doing what you were told to, this is why I answered the phone. But since you are working man, you must understand we are as well, and your insistence is worrying people who don’t deserve to be worried. You were told to trick us so I can give my cousin this property for free and leave us all unemployed…” he paused and sighed. “Tell him, please, as soon as you can, that it won’t be happening so we can end this chasing,” he requested, directly.

Dean was left reeling, without any words to say. Not only did he feel uncomfortable with the whole situation, but now he was starting to feel Castiel was not the guy he thought he was. The tone of this voice didn’t imply anything to be laughed at. It was not the voice of an old grouch. And there was something else bothering Dean…

“Don’t I know you?” he said, without thinking. “That voice… I’ve heard it, I think.”

Castiel was the one in disadvantage at that point, “What?” he asked, incredulously.

“I think I remember your voice from somewhere. I don’t know. Sorry,” Dean said, feeling like an idiot. Castiel said nothing back and that increased the sensation. “Look, I…” he paused, “I can assure you you’re not the only one feeling disturbed by this whole thing. I promise. I just… please, let me explain this in person. Can I come to your store so I can talk to you?” Dean tried, and the silence that followed uneased him.

“Why would I do that?” Castiel answered instead.

“I don’t know, I’m just trusting in your best judgement, Mr. Novak,” Dean answered.

“Ok,” Castiel said, some seconds later. “When do you want to come?” he asked, and Dean felt surprised by the question. It was a long time since someone asked him what he wanted to do.

“I stay at the office until late most days,” Dean said, “so I would need to stop working earlier…” he stopped to think and Castiel patiently waited. “I would prefer, if it doesn’t bother you, to come any day Gabriel is not around…”

Castiel laughed at that, and Dean thought out of nowhere that he had a great one. “I’m sorry,” he said later. “I was not expecting that kind of an answer…” he chuckled again and that made Dean feel weird inside. He thought it was because of how awkward the whole conversation was being, but at the same time he knew it was something unidentified and completely different. “It would be great if you could come today,” Castiel added, and woke Dean out of his thoughts, “since Gabriel has classes all day. He never comes on Fridays.”

“Classes?” Dean asked, honestly curious.

“Piano classes,” Castiel answered, as if they were friends talking about mundane things.

“Oh,” Dean replied, surprised. “I would have never taken Gabriel as an artist.”

“Nobody does, in fact. But he is,” Castiel answered. “Let me guess, did you take him as a boxer?” he said and Dean wondered if that sounded as flirtatious for Castiel as it sounded for him.

“Featherweight, indeed,” Dean commented, however, in the same tone. That gained him a new laugh from his receptor, and Dean unknowingly decided to accompany him this time, chuckling like he hadn’t done in ages.

When their laughing died down, though, it was as if they realized how bizarre their conversation had turned in a blink, filling the atmosphere with shyness again. Castiel coughed.

“I will be waiting you then, Dean, if you decide to come. Have a nice day,” he said, sounding nervous.

“Yes, yes, I will be there,” Dean answered, similarly, and before he hung up he heard Charlie over the phone.

“Why are you laughing with him, Castiel? He is your enemy!” she said and the shop owner groaned, stopping the connection.

Dean’s heart was pounding; he could barely believe the conversation he just had with the guy he was supposed to be pestering. It was as if someone completely unprofessional had taken over his body and talked in his place. Or, in Missouri’s words, as if the old Dean had returned, which was terribly worrisome. His old self would never fit in a company like Sandover, or in a lifestyle like the one Dean wanted to be part of.

He clicked on the Excel icon on his computer and kept on working on the tasks of that day, trying to stop the storm of thoughts he was having. And if his mind wandered around his earlier conversation with Castiel every once in awhile, he pushed it aside.

When the buzzer sounded, indicating it was six o’clock, Dean realized it was time to go to the bakery. He had tried to deny it up to that point, but he had been genuinely waiting to do it. If he’d already wanted to meet Castiel before, now it was a whole new thing, for a whole bunch of different reasons Dean was afraid of thinking about.

He took the car keys and left the office, locking it up. Becky pointed out he was leaving earlier than usual (she couldn’t avoid her gossiping spirits), and Dean told her he had a meeting with his doctor. It was not enough for her, apparently, and after her advances he told her he had a vasectomy programmed, and gave her no time to process the answer, leaving her behind. When he turned on the ignition of the Prius he realized that was a joke the old Dean would have said and drove all the way to the bakery wondering what the hell was wrong with him that day.

Dean parked the car two blocks away from the bakery. He didn’t want to be seen by his parents, if he could avoid it. Out of sight, out of mind. He walked the way up to the store, paying attention to the details. It was a good neighborhood, and he couldn’t avoid thinking a skyscraper would feel completely out of place there.

When he arrived, he glanced at the opposite street, and found a couple of cars in his dad’s shop, but nobody around. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and opened the bakery’s door. He was sure he would find a place whose tables were almost all full and whose ambient was warm and inviting, as it happened the first time he went there, but what he hadn’t thought about was who he would find behind the counter.

It was the guy from the last time. The one with the sex hair he winked at. The one with the gorgeous eyes Dean thought about once in a while before sleep. He was not looking at the door, since he was writing some stuff in a notebook, but Dean knew it was him. He considered slipping away but decided against it. If he had to deal with it, he would deal with it like a badass.

He walked to the counter, confident. After all, the guy didn’t have to be Castiel, necessarily. Perhaps it was that photoless Kevin dude, or a completely different employee that was not portrayed on the website. He was surely not Castiel. More than surely. The guy raised his head as if he knew someone was thinking about him and noticed Dean for the first time. He looked astounded at first, but then he smiled remembering Dean as well and Dean definitely liked what he saw. He begged please for him not to be Castiel. Once he got to the counter, he realized it had been only a wishful thinking, he had no such good luck.

“Hello Dean, I’m Castiel,” the guy said. Fuck his life. “We meet properly at last, it’s a pleasure,” he added, and Dean thought he was screwed. Completely and absolutely screwed. The guy was gorgeous to the eyes, what made the whole Sandover situation a bit more complicated than it should. Castiel offered his hand to shake then, and Dean complied. The shivers he felt inside after the shake screwed with him a little more.

“I didn’t ask over the phone because I was angry at you, I confess, so sorry about that,” Castiel said and Dean arched his eyebrows, in surprise. He had no idea what Castiel was saying. “How is your nose?” He clarified.

“Why would you ask me that?” Dean said honestly and Castiel blushed at the question. Dean thought the color looked good on him.

“I mean…” Castiel tried, embarrassed, “I’m really sorry about Gabriel’s behavior, I’ve told him off about it. I just wanted to check on you,” he finished, in a heartbeat.

“Nobody has cared about my well-being in a while,” Dean confessed, “so thank you. I’m fine. It hurt a little at first, but it’s okay now. Sorry for the scene, by the way,” he added.

“You’ve already told me that. Last week when we met, do you remember?” Castiel answered and Dean found it interesting he remembered their meeting as much as Dean did. “You’re forgiven. Sorry about my cousin, anyway,” he said and Dean chuckled.

“You’ve already told me that. A couple of seconds ago, do you remember?” he said, paraphrasing Castiel. In the meanwhile, the staring contest between them was strong. Dean wanted to look away, but it was impossible. They were like magnets, attracting each other with immense power. “You’re forgiven as well. I won’t say I’m happy with the punch or the fact I was left like a fool in front of everybody, but it just makes me understand how much Gabriel loves you,” Dean added, even when he had no idea where that comment came from.

Castiel looked visibly flustered and looked down, ending their stare. Dean found out he didn’t want to. “It’s just,” Castiel answered. “We just have one another, we’re the only family left in each other’s lives.”

“About that,” Dean said, trying to ease the intimate atmosphere that was present in between them with something more professional. “I’ve considered different options while driving here, but I reckon telling you the truth is the best thing I can do for you. Look,” Dean said, some seconds later, after releasing a deep sigh, “what I will say may sound weird but I like…”

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Castiel blurted suddenly, interrupting Dead and taking him aback, who agreed to it anyway, before Castiel disappeared behind the coffee machine. “Take a seat, please,” Dean heard him say and he chose one of the stools opposite the counter. It had nothing to do with the fact all the regular tables were taken, though, and all to do with the fact Castiel was closer that way. He felt like an idiot, for the millionth time that day. When Castiel came back with two cups of coffee and smiled in front of him, though, he felt it was not that bad. “Did you say you wanted to tell me the truth?” Castiel added, and Dean nodded. “I’m all ears.”

“Well,” Dean started, and took a sip of the beverage. “Mmm, it’s delicious,” he praised and Castiel muttered a quiet _‘thank you’_ in response. “Anyway,” he started again, “I’m an accountant. I’m not a lawyer, not a money-lender, not a real estate agent… I’m just a worker at Sandover.” Dean paused and looked at Castiel, who was observing him with his full attention. “My personal hunger for success wanted me to ascend positions, as you may understand,” Castiel considered the implied question and nodded. Dean didn’t know if he was convinced. “I’m a senior right now, and they went to me one day and asked me to convince you to sell them your bakery, as a special task to prove my loyalty to the company.” Castiel rolled his eyes at that, “Which I am, I mean, I’m loyal to my job, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bully. I tried to be the other day and Gabriel almost broke my nose, it’s not my field of work.”

Castiel chuckled and Dean blushed a little at that reaction.

“Why don’t you say _no_ , and that’s it?” Castiel asked, genuinely interested and Dean sighed.

“Because it’s not that easy,” Dean answered, frustrated. “Crowley told me if I didn’t convince you, they would do it by force when the restraining order you put on them expires and I would be relegated to a junior position again. I don’t think you have a way to escape from them coming here everyday, and the same goes for me,” he finished.

“I cannot believe they told you about our family struggles, it’s personal,” Castiel said, looking terribly angry. Dean didn’t like that look on him, but he was not in a position to fix it, either. He glanced around and realized the bakery’s employees were glaring daggers at him, and gulped when the redheaded girl made her way over to them.

“What is this dude telling you?” she asked Castiel, who looked back at her. “Do you want us to kick him out?”

“Nobody is going to kick anyone out,” Castiel answered firmly.

“But the look on your face, boss, he…” she tried.

“I’m angry but I’m not angry at him, so please, Charlie, leave us alone. Dean is not a demon you have to defend me from,” his voice gave no doubts so the girl left, not without throwing a last menacing look at Dean.

“Thank you,” he said, and Castiel waved away his thanks.

“Don’t worry,” he answered. “She is very protective of me, that’s all,” he added.

“Everybody is protective of you, apparently,” Dean commented before he could stop himself, and looked Castiel in the eyes. The staring contest started again, but then a woman showed up beside Dean and called Castiel, distracting him.

“Hi, Commissioner Mills, what can I do for you?” he said, with a big smile, that Dean internally wished he could have generated instead of the unknown woman. He drank the rest of his coffee in order to wash out his thoughts.

“Just a dozen croissants, darling, I want to reward my officers for their good job,” she said. To Dean, a reward for hard work was an alien concept; he’d never received such from Crowley. Or anyone bar his family, if he was honest.

He watched Castiel fill her order with a smile, handing the box to Jody who had her wallet at the ready.

“How much do I owe you, Castiel?” she asked.

“It’s on the house,” Castiel said and Dean’s eyes grew the size of saucers at that. The Commissioner insisted more than once, and even put some bills on the counter, but Castiel took them and put them back on the box, ignoring her continued effort to give him the bills. She thanked at him, a couple of seconds later. “It’s a pleasure, Jody,” Castiel answered, “don’t cry, please,” he added, and Dean looked at her, cleaning her face from the tears in her eyes. He hadn’t noticed that, but Castiel had.

“Thank you,” she said to him again, and after that she looked at Dean for the first time. “He is an angel,” she said and left.

Castiel took a kitchen cloth and cleaned the counter, as if nothing had happened.

“Why did you do that?” Dean asked then, completely astonished. Castiel furrowed his brows, not understanding and Dean had to clarify, “Why did you give her the order for free?”

Castiel left the cloth aside and stood in front of Dean again. He put both his hand on the counter and looked at him in the eyes. “She is experiencing some personal problems, Dean. Her husband and child died in a car accident a month ago and she has to deal with various debts, including the burial costs. She is not feeling really well, as you may understand. If I can help her, at least with ten dollars, I will,” he finished.

“You’re the one with debts, Castiel,” Dean said, confused.

 His expression changed, into a more serious one, and Dean regretted telling him that.

“My debts have nothing to do with the fact I give some presents to the customers I like,” he answered, stubbornly.

“They surely do,” Dean replied back, in the same tone, even when he had no idea why the situation made him feel like that.

“I’m telling you they do not,” Castiel said, increasing the tone.

“Then what?” Dean retorted, needing some answers.

Castiel stopped talking and what he said hurt Dean more than it had to.

“I won’t discuss my debts with you, Dean,” he said, adamantly.

There was only silence between them, for a while. “It’s okay, fair enough,” Dean said when he couldn’t stand the awkwardness anymore. “Anyway, with or without debts, we are in a jam here, Novak, and we need to figure out what we will do, don’t you think?”

“All I know is I will not sell this property to Zachariah,” Castiel said, “no matter how deep they drown me, or how much you insist. I will always say _no_. I have four families at my charge in this bakery, four good ones. And I won’t allow them to suffer because of someone that cannot overcome the fact our grandmother never loved him,” he added, slowly but with intent.

“You forgot yourself,” Dean commented.

“My priority is them,” Castiel pointed out, and Dean froze after that statement. He was so used to putting himself as a priority he never thought others wouldn’t.

“I need my position in the company,” he said seconds later, more proving a point to himself than answering Castiel.

“And I don’t want you to lose it either,” he said, changing the tone again. “But my store is mine, and it will keep on being mine until I die,” he finished and Dean nodded. Castiel’s position couldn’t be clearer, and he understood. The disappointment on Dean’s face must have been really big, however, because Castiel noticed and took his hand, as a sign of support. “Hey,” he said and squeezed hard, “let me help you. Gabriel doesn’t come here any Monday or Friday. On Wednesdays he comes more or less at eight to help us close. You’re invited to have coffee and I promise I will help you to find a way…”

“He only wants your shop,” Dean answered, but he didn’t make an attempt to lose the contact with Castiel’s hand.

“Please,” Castiel insisted, and Dean couldn’t deny the help anymore.

Instead, he asked, “Why?”

Castiel thought about his response for a while, never leaving Dean’s hand.

“Because someone I trust told me you were a good person, and I firmly believe they were right,” he said and Dean couldn’t avoid asking him what he was talking about. “Your mom,” he said then, and Dean jumped from the stool.

“What?!” he said, “My mom?! How? Oh, God… why?!” he said, releasing himself finally from Castiel’s hand. “This is why you were all gentle with me today? Did she ask you to be?”

“Nobody forces me to do anything, Dean, you should be aware of that fact by now,” Castiel answered, calmly. “Do you really think an incident like yours wouldn’t be discussed by the whole neighborhood? By the way, Ellen recognized your car,” he added, just to clarify the only part that Dean was not understanding. His face couldn’t be redder. “She only had good words to tell me about you, anyway, even when she is hurt by the lack of communication you have. There’s no reason for you to react like that. I didn’t believe her at first. After all, you came here to claim my property for a person who hates me. But now it’s different.”

“Different how?” Dean insisted.

“First of all, you told me the truth, and that’s not something a regular worker of my cousin would do,” Castiel said. “You must be different, by definition. Furthermore,” he continued, “you were nice to me, right now and on the phone, and I appreciate that, even more taking into account Gabriel punched you because of me and you could be bitter about that.” He considered other options for a while, but looked like he regretted on whatever he was thinking. “That’s it, I think.”

“And how do you know I’m not tricking you by being friendly or something?” Dean asked, and Castiel looked at him intensely by the other side of the counter. If Dean didn’t consider him so hot his stare would be scary.

“Because no kid raised with love by Ellen and Robert would ever do something like that. Am I right?” he asked. Dean doubted a little, not because he thought he would be able to do such a thing, but because he didn’t want Castiel to have the power of reading him like an open book. He nodded, defeated, and Castiel looked at him as if saying “I told you so.”

“I’m not a kid, though,” he said, to lighten the mood, and Castiel smiled at the comment. Dean definitely liked that smile. “Look, Cas, I have to go home right now,” he said before he could express out loud what he was thinking. But, where did that _Cas_ come from?

“Oh, really?” Castiel said, not noticing of the nickname. Dean noticed a hint of disappointment in Castiel’s gaze, but he thought it was only his imagination. “Just, wait a minute, before you go…” he said, and disappeared behind the counter. Dean went to it again, and tried to spy the owner by stretching himself out, but he couldn’t see a thing. Moments later Castiel emerged from the floor, with a package in his hands. “Here, this is for you, as a sign of my gratitude, and the foundation of our friendship,” he said, and offered the package to Dean.

“What is this?” Dean wondered, suspiciously.

“Apple pie,” Castiel answered, quite happily. Dean groaned at that, imagining the implications. “Your mother told me you loved them, with cinnamon she pointed out, and since this is a bakery, well…” with a movement of his hand he left the rest unsaid. It didn’t matter, Dean had already understood.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I cannot eat it,” he said. Castiel turned the head to a side, clearly having no clue of what he was saying. “I’m on a diet, a strict one,” Dean cleared up. He made a movement to return the package but before he could blink Castiel was in front of him, and spinning him around so he was watching the opposite direction. He took Dean by the elbow of his shirt and walked him to the door.

“You are slim as a stick, and have bags under your eyes. You need sugar, Dean. Eat all the pie when you’re at home watching a movie, or playing video games,” Castiel said while walking.

“I don’t play videogames,” Dean answered. When they were both outside and the door was closed, he couldn’t take the frustration anymore and added, “Cas, my Hugo Boss!”

There it was the _Cas_ again.

Castiel released him and looked at him, bewildered. “What?” he said, looking from the right to the left of the street. “Who’s _Hugo_? Wasn’t _Crowley_ your boss? I don’t see anybody.”

Dean was blank for some seconds, astonished, until his laugh burst out, filling the night with his voice. Some people who were walking on the street turned their heads to look at them, but Dean’s laugh didn’t stop until he opened his eyes and realized by Castiel’s awkward smile that he had no idea what he had said.

“ _Hugo Boss_ , Cas… like, you know, my suit’s brand… not a person called _Hugo_ ,” Dean tried, slowly, as if he was explaining something to a child.

Castiel stayed on his place, unamused, until at some point he said, “Oh, yeah, sorry Dean, I’m not very good catching fashion references,” with a face that couldn’t get any redder.

Dean put a hand over Castiel’s shoulder then, and shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter, Cas, there are more important things in this world to pay attention to,” he said. “Just do me a favor and don’t ever change,” he finished and turned around. He started walking in the direction of his car, and tried not to look back at Castiel.

“Eat the pie, Dean,” Castiel repeated from his place at the store and Dean smiled at that.

“I will come back on Monday,” Dean yelled back, and raised his free hand to attempt a wave. He didn’t know if Castiel was still watching him, but somehow he knew he was, and that felt good.

When he arrived at his car, Dean put the pie on the passenger seat and collapsed into the driver’s one. It was not until he got back home and put the pie in the fridge that he realized what he had said to Castiel. There were more important things than a suit’s brand to care about. It had been an unconscious statement, but somehow he knew it was not a lie but something he believed, deep inside, no matter if he denied it. Old Dean striking again.

That is how it all started. Dean didn’t break his promise, and even when it cost him a lot of effort, he came back that Monday, with slices of pie eaten. Actually, he spent the whole weekend fighting the temptation of eating it all, but when Castiel smiled at him in such a way that he looked proud of what Dean had done, all his doubts disappeared completely. It didn’t stop at Monday, either. Dean came back that following Wednesday. And then that Friday too. The following weeks mirrored the past ones and it soon became a routine between them.

It was always the same. Dean came after work (way earlier than the time he used to leave the office) and sat on the stool closest to the cash register, where Castiel was most of the time. Dean drank his coffee, exclusively prepared by the owner himself, and they talked about whatever was on their minds. Once in a while Dean tried his luck teasing if the bakery was for sale and Castiel always answered it was not. Sometimes they bickered, since Castiel gave some customers big discounts or orders for free and Dean lost his mind, but most of the time they were in peace and Sandover was not a topic of conversation at all.

There was one particular Friday when Dean asked Castiel for his account books, and Castiel handed them to him, though not without trying to fool Dean by denying their complete existence. Dean spent hours analyzing its numbers, watching customers come in and leave, until he found out something that caught his attention. The _Miscellaneous Fees Column_ had a constant expense every month that was completely out of proportion, taking into account how much the bakery gained by every period. Dean asked Castiel about it and he only said he couldn’t talk about the issue. They argued because of that, up to the point Castiel asked Dean why he was so interested, if it was because he wanted to inform Zachariah. In response to that Dean stormed out of the store and went to drink the remains of his coffee on the sidewalk. He was so mad he didn’t even remember his parents could see him there and set off an embarrassing meeting. To his surprise, Castiel appeared out of the store ten minutes later with a brownie for him and an _“I’m sorry”._

“I wouldn’t do that,” Dean replied, sneaking a peek at Castiel.

“I know,” Castiel said, and Dean didn’t imagine how much he needed that answer until he heard it. After that, Castiel told him an anecdote of Kevin throwing the content of his tray all over a customer that was pestering him and their combined laughs made the dark mood disappear.

Their odd relationship was noticed by all the bakery employees, and even when some of them were still distrustful of Dean (by them meaning Claire, mostly) the rest of the staff had grown on Dean over time, and vice-versa. Kevin was a great guy, and Benny was talented and responsible, but Charlie was a completely different situation. She was the staff member he learned to appreciate the most, and they shared conversations when Castiel was busy or not around.

She was the first one (and hopefully the only one) to notice the sparks that flew between him and Castiel every time their eyes met. She was respectful of Dean, though, and when he asked her to please stop teasing him, she did. He was already feeling guilty, he didn’t need her to add any more weight onto his back. That didn’t stop Charlie from saying from time to time that Dean was the Prince Charming she had always suggested Castiel would meet. His answer to that nonsense was always the same.

“I’m not a prince charming, child. I’m the villain’s sidekick.”

On a Wednesday, his routine changed when a blonde petite appeared on his right and said: “Dean, could we have a little chat outside?”

When Dean turned around and realized it was his sister, he froze. Against all the forces telling him not to do it, he complied and accompanied her to a more private place where they could talk. Castiel watched him go from the other side of the counter and muttered a quiet _“good luck”_ to him.

“What do you want, Johanna? How did you know I was here?” he asked when they were alone.

“Oh, come on!” she said. “You don’t see me in months and this is how you treat me?” She sighed while Dean rolled his eyes. “Practically everybody in Overland Park knows you come here daily to charm Castiel…”

“What?!” Dean interrupted, but she paid him no attention.

“...so it is easy to find you. If mom and dad didn’t come here to meet you it’s because they are not prepared to do that,” she finished and that last sentence hurt Dean more than he imagined.

“And you are?” Dean asked, coldly.

“Of course I am. I’m trying to protect the remains of this family. Jesus, Dean, you don’t even call us… when was the last time you talked to Sam?” she said, louder than before.

“I don’t remember!” Dean replied. “If I didn’t, it was because I couldn’t. What would he want to tell me anyway? The awesomeness of his life? How great and stressful his work is and how mine is shitty?”

Jo looked at him, appalled. “Do you really think that, Dean?” she said, in a hurtful tone. “Do you really think Sam or any of us would only make contact with you to criticize your choices? Sam is not trying to keep up with the Joneses here, he doesn’t want you to feel jealous or bad. Nobody wants that. We want to see you, share family moments. We want you to have a family too… is that so hard to understand?”

“What are you doing now? Expressing concern or lecturing me?” Dean counterattacked. “You didn’t even ask me how I’m feeling or if I’m satisfied with my job right now. You all just… assume stuff.”

“And you don’t?” Jo asked curiously, after some seconds of uncomfortable silence.

Dean didn’t answer that, because even he wasn’t sure of how he was feeling about it. “What did you want to tell me?” he repeated, turning the conversation to the original topic.

Jo sighed again. “I want you, please, to call Sam. You were ignoring his calls for weeks, and he has a really important thing to tell you,” she answered timidly.

“What?” Dean insisted.

“It’s not my place to say,” Jo said, and started walking towards the car shop. “I need to go now, but promise me you will do it, today without fail,” she said and crossed the street. “And promise me you will stay in touch,” she added, before disappearing inside the shop.

Dean had no time to answer, but he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked at his side only to find Castiel, with another cup of coffee in his hand that was handed to him.

“Do you always try to change people’s mood with food?” he teased, without malice and took the cup offered.

“It’s my job,” Castiel answered. “And to be honest, coffee is not food…”

“Yeah, yeah, smartass, whatever you say,” Dean commented and they laughed.

Both guys leaned their backs on the wall of the bakery and stayed in silence for a while.

“I don’t think he will want anything more important than telling me he has a new dog, or he bought a new bicycle… it’s what he does. But I will try calling him today,” Dean decided. “Otherwise Jo will chase me forever, and that could be even worse than fighting with my brother over the phone…” he finished, attempting a bitter laugh.

“Do it, but do it when you’re sure you can handle a complicated conversation,” Castiel suggested. “Go home, have a warm bath, eat something that gives you energy, like a stew…”

“I don’t eat stews, they are caloric,” Dean said.

“Stews are delicious and nutritious. I could make you one, if you wish,” Castiel insisted.

“You are already making me fatter with your pies and brownies, Cas,” Dean answered.

“A couple of pounds more or less on your body wouldn’t change the fact you’re a great person, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Castiel said, as if it was nothing, and Dean couldn’t reply back. Castiel looked at his surprised gaze and smiled. “Don’t you think you’re a good person, Dean?” he asked. “Then, perhaps people around you should appreciate your worth a little more.”

Dean couldn’t reply at that because Kevin appeared suddenly asking for Castiel’s presence in the kitchen. “Benny let Claire try out her caramel talents and she burned the saucepan!” he said and Castiel shot an apologetic look at Dean, who let him go.

“You know where to find me if you need someone to talk to,” he said before disappearing into the store.

Hours later, alone in his apartment, after a heated discussion with his brother and the last minute bomb he’d thrown before hanging up, Dean realized how much he appreciated the offer.

“Sarah is pregnant, Dean! I’m gonna be a father! You’re gonna be an uncle!” he said over the phone, frustrated and angry. “Wake up for once, dude. You’re letting your life happen in front of your eyes and you don’t realize. For two months I’ve tried to contact you. And you never had time. How can that be normal?”

Sam cut the line before Dean could say another word.


	5. Panna Cotta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian dessert made of sweetened cream and gelatine. You can check the recipe [here](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/72567/panna-cotta/).

“ _Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc._, you’ve reached to the Human Resources department. My name is Madison, what can I do for you?”

If Dean wasn’t so angry at himself, and life in general at that moment he would have laughed because of the sentence. The company’s name was so long and pretentious… he never had noticed it but it was starting to be obvious now.

“Hello, ma’am, my name is Dean Winchester. I work in accounting, and today I’m not feeling really well so I won’t come into the office. I’m calling to notify you,” he said, instead.

“I see,” the girl answered. “What’s your medical diagnosis, sir?” she asked then, surprising Dean. He never had needed a doctor’s note before, since in his time at Sandover he had never missed a day of work, but somehow he thought the call would have been enough.

“Um…” he started, puzzled. “I have the flu, I suppose,” he decided, uncertainly.

“You suppose you have the flu?” Madison asked over the phone, chuckling. What a disrespectful chick. “Sir, were you to a doctor?” she added, seconds later.

“I don’t think it’s necessary, lady, I’m on my bed with fever and a terrible throat ache,” he lied, sitting on his sofa in the living room, where he had slept the night before, after his fight with Sam. “Do you want me to send you any kind of proof? Don’t you hear I’m sick?” he added, faking a cough.

“The only proof I need is your doctor’s note, sir. I need to ask you not to be rude with me,” Madison replied, patiently. “I hope you understand the medical certificate is indeed necessary,” Madison added. “It’s the only way I can be sure you’re not lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Dean answered, as if saying this would solve it all. “I’m a great worker in our company, ask around. I wouldn’t lie about my health to miss a day of work,” he added, ironically, taking into account that was exactly what was happening.

Madison said nothing, Dean only heard the sound of typing.

“I don’t doubt of your faculties, Mister...,” she hesitated, “Winchester, but I need a medical certificate anyway. The company’s regulations are executed for everyone with no exceptions, and you’ve signed your knowledge about them along with your contract.”

He had forgotten all about Sandover regulations. Nobody could blame him, though, they were compiled in twenty sheets and two annexes.

“I won’t get out of my house in these conditions, miss. I feel really bad, I won’t go to any doctor,” Dean answered stubbornly. “You will have to believe in my words, and my words alone.”

Madison sighed, sounding tired of the conversation.

“I will be harsh here, Mr. Winchester, but I won’t trust in any words you say if you don’t send me the medical certificate you should have by now via email or by fax,” she said. “You’re a number for me, identical to all the other numbers I work with every day. I don’t discriminate if you work more or less than others. But if you haven’t sent me the document that certifies you’re unable to work by ten in the morning, you won’t leave me any choice but to inform your superior. Have a nice day.” And with that she hung up, leaving Dean alone.

Dean threw the telephone to the other sofa. He was starting to feel fed up of people hanging up on their conversations with him as if he was an expendable idiot whose opinion never mattered. He lay on the sofa, and put the blanket over his body, in an attempt of falling asleep again. He didn’t want to do a thing that day. Or possibly never again. Instead of sleeping, though, he started thinking about all the stuff he has done in the last couple of years, all the things he has earned and all the people he was away from.

His parents and siblings were not the only ones; he was away from his friends and from basically everybody who shared a bond with him in the past. Everybody decided to leave him behind. Or Dean decided to do that, he was not really sure. Now he would be an uncle, Sam would be a father, and instead of feeling happy for him and crying of happiness he was bursting out of anger, alone in a living room that was more lifeless than anything else. He reckoned if it wasn’t for Jo, he would have been ignorant of the news for God knows how much time.

Sam’s accusations were not helpful for Dean, either. He knew work had consumed most of his life, he was aware of that fact, but his family treating him as if he was a senseless robot with no personality didn’t make it easy for him to restart their relationship and fix their problems. They were not bad people, neither his parents, nor Sam. They just didn’t get what objective Dean was chasing. They all accused him of paying no attention to them, when in fact all he was doing was being successful to make them be proud of what Dean had achieved.

Everybody misunderstood Dean. _Except for Castiel_ , he thought, then. And there it was, the other thing that made him anxious, that made him uneasy, that messed with what he was supposed to be.

At first he thought he was screwed up only because of the fact that the guy was handsome, and that the weird sensation in his stomach every time their eyes met would disappear eventually. After some weeks of getting to know Castiel, however, all those feelings intensified and Dean realized he was immersed in the most bizarre scenario ever imagined. He was supposed to hate Novak, he was supposed to be glad of the task his bosses gave him to perform, but instead Dean was starting to develop a deep crush on the person he was paid to destroy, to the point he became the highlight of Dean’s days, and the only person he was waiting to meet and have conversations with when he woke up. Castiel had, in such a short period of time, become the only person Dean could trust with his secrets and thoughts, because he would always smile at him and make him feel better, even after an argument, or when they didn’t share the same point of view on something.

Dean was comfortable around Castiel, like he belonged in his company. He didn’t have to play a part in front of him to be accepted, no matter if it was this Dean or the old one talking, and that scared the hell out of him, because he had never shared a relationship like that before in his life. Everything was temporary, volatile, unattached with his former official girlfriends, and the guys he had dated (or to be honest with himself, the guys he’d had sex with, since that was the only thing his insecurities allowed him to do). They knew Dean liked both fucking and being fucked, but none of them understood why. They all discovered Dean had a tattoo on his chest, but its meaning remained unknown and unimportant for them. They all knew he always possessed the latest cellphone model, but none of them were interested in learning why it never rang.

Even when he wanted to deny it, Dean knew none of that would apply to Castiel. He was attentive, gentle and selfless, both with Dean and everybody else; and he looked genuinely interested in knowing Dean’s opinions about different topics as well as being familiar with how he was feeling in general. Dean usually daydreamed thinking how that would be, breaking all of his inner walls for Castiel, and surprisingly every time that happened he realized it would be possible, that he would work for that to be an option. The sole thought, however, scared him even more than Crowley and Zachariah combined.

He covered himself even more with the blanket, trying to stop thinking when his cellphone vibrated on the coffee table. He laughed at the irony, suspecting it would be someone from work demanding him to send the medical certificate, and read it was already six in the afternoon. He had no idea how the time passed so fast.

 _'You have three new text messages,'_ the screen showed. Dean sat on the sofa and unlocked the phone. Big was his surprise when he discovered it was not from work but from Castiel.

“I’m aware we hadn’t exchanged messages up to this point, but I confess I’m worried about you, so I took the liberty of doing it to ask you how you’re feeling. I realized you were sad when I left you yesterday outside the bakery. My offer remains: call me or come to the store if you need to talk. I’m here,” Dean read one after the other and felt like his stomach and heart were about to explode. Castiel was worried about him, he remembered the offer he’d made and repeated it.

Dean tried to stop the frenzied beating of his heart by doing his infamous yoga exercises but all he achieved was releasing the tears he had held back quicker. He stayed there, crying alone on the sofa, with the cellphone in his hand, until he recovered the ability to type and wrote his answer.

“Thanks for the offer, Cas. I will be there tomorrow. To be honest, I don’t know how I’m doing, I’m confused. About a lot of things,” he wrote. Dean left the _“including you”_ part unwritten and sent the message.

He lay down on the sofa again, reading and re-reading Castiel’s message. There was something weird on the screen, and he didn’t know what it was, until after the twentieth reading he realized he had saved his contact as Castiel Novak. It was absolutely not right. Dean changed it to a strict _Cas_ , and smiled at the realization it really looked better like that. Truer. Closer to what Castiel really meant for him, whatever it was.

Dean closed his eyes, and lost himself for a while in dreams of chocolate, families and things he hadn’t realized up to that point he’d missed. That’s when the cell phone rang, and he had to look for it in the tangled mess that was his blanket. When he finally found it, he picked it up without looking at who it was.

“Hello,” he said and yawned.

“Sorry, I may sound annoying, but your answer left me more worried than before,” the man at the other side of the line said and Dean couldn’t sit up quicker. It was Castiel. “Oh God, have you just yawned? Were you sleeping? Sorry, Dean, I won’t bother you anymore…”

“Cas, don’t.” Dean stopped him. “It’s okay. I’ve slept practically all day and probably will sleep again when we stop talking so it’s more than okay. I’m...” he doubted, “I’m really happy that you called.”

“Thanks,” he said, seconds later, sounding timid. Dean could relate with that feeling. “I just wanted to know how you are doing, only if you want to talk about it, of course,” Castiel finished.

“I don’t want to talk about my family right now, to be honest,” Dean answered. “But,” he said before Castiel could misunderstand him, “I’d like knowing how your day was, instead. Did I miss something interesting in the bakery today?”

Castiel chuckled, “Dean, we are talking about you, I have nothing interesting to say.”

“You always have interesting things to share,” Dean said, meaning it. “I promise I will tell you tomorrow but just not now,” he added, and Castiel kept quiet for a while.

“I don’t know if you will like what have happened here today, anyway,” he said, catching Dean by surprise.

“What?!” he said, scared. “Did you get hurt with a knife or something? Did someone rob the store?” he joked, however.

“No, no, nothing like that, don’t worry,” Castiel answered seemingly amused and Dean sighed, relieved. “It was a regular day, Claire even made a couple of cakes without burning the kitchen,” he added and Dean laughed. He asked himself what kind of power Castiel had that he made him feel like that in such a short period of time, and trembled thinking about the answer. “But then, just before I closed the store,” he took a deep breath, “I was alone, and… well, Bartholomew appeared,” he revealed, his voice little more than a whisper.

“What?!” Dean asked, and even when he couldn’t see his face without a mirror he knew he was red with anger.

Dean hated the guy. Honest to God, he hated him. He had only seen him three or four times surrounding the bakery, harassing Castiel and insisting on dates Castiel never accepted, but that was enough for Dean to loathe him and made it clear to Castiel himself, who thankfully shared his feelings.

Dean’s opinions about Bartholomew had nothing to do with plain jealousy, or well, jealousy was not the only cause of his revulsion. Dean thought Bartholomew was despicable even when he was not interacting with Castiel, with his arrogant posture, and his general self-important attitude. The last time he saw him, pleading Castiel to go out with him to a Turkish restaurant, it became evident why.

“I don’t like Turkish food,” Castiel had answered that day and Dean had chortled at the comment while working on the bakery’s accounting books. Bartholomew didn’t notice him, but he had seen Kevin, ducking behind the counter, while putting the silverware away.

“I wouldn’t laugh so much, kid,” he’d sneered, when Castiel couldn’t hear him. “Not with those pitiful shoes. I’m surprised you come out in public dressed like that, and with that hairstyle—”

“Weren’t you leaving?” Dean had interrupted, then. Bartholomew had looked at him, and with a sneer, as if he had discovered something Dean hadn’t, he had left the bakery.

“I don’t care about that prick, but thanks anyway,” Kevin had said, after closing the distance between him and Dean. “I might know why you react to him like you do, though. Can I be bold?” he had asked and Dean had nodded. “I think you see yourself in him, don’t you? With that pedantry and everything? And somehow is true, you’re rude sometimes. But let me tell you one thing. Well… two things. The first one: you’re not like that, not now, at least, so congratulations; and the second one: Castiel does think well of you, unlike Bartholomew. He genuinely likes you. Don’t waste the chance you’ve got to be better,” the kid had winked and left him alone with the books, until Castiel had come back to resume their conversation, Bartholomew’s appearance totally forgotten.

Kevin had been right, though, Dean reckoned. He saw a lot of himself in Bartholomew. And he didn’t like a single bit of it. Did that mean he had been like that all those years? Did his family resent him as he resented Bartholomew? That Castiel thought at first Dean was similar to that prick? That sole thought made Dean sick in the stomach and wondered what he had been doing with his life all this time.

“What did he do to you, Cas?” Dean asked, however, in an angry tone.

“Nothing, just, you know, his usual requests,” Castiel answered, apologetic. “Only this time he said since I always say _no_ to his invitations, he’s already reserved the table for us, so tomorrow he will just come to the bakery to pick me up,” he sighed, tired.

“What the hell, Cas? Did you say no?” Dean asked, scratching his head furiously. He thought, while doing it, he should control his emotions a little better.

“Of course!” Castiel answered, then added, “That doesn’t mean he won’t appear tomorrow.”

“I will chase him out, I swear.”

“It okay, Dean,” Castiel interrupted, “you have your own problems, I will deal with—”

“You’re part of my problems, Cas! Don’t you get it?” Dean blurted, frustrated, before he could help himself. Castiel didn’t reply and Dean thought for some horrific seconds he would start listening to the busy tone.

“Okay. It’s,” Castiel hesitated. “It’s good to know, first hand,” he said, then, distinctly hurt.

“What?” Dean answered, puzzled. Suddenly he understood. “No, Cas, no! I didn’t mean it like you’re a burden. It was not literal! I meant it as…” he sighed, deeply. “You’ve become really important to me, Cas. Jeez. Your problems are my problems because,” he paused again, “because I care about you, okay? I… I don’t usually say this kind of things, this is why I don’t know how to... please, don’t hang up on me, Cas. Someone already did today and it’s more than enough. I can bear it if it’s from people from work I couldn’t care less about, or even Sam if he is angry with me, but you are different…”

Castiel remained silent for a while, Dean’s heart beating furiously.

“Being completely honest, I don’t think I could ever hang up on you, not even if I felt frustrated because you cannot control your moods, and say things in a bad tone without thinking how others feel,” Castiel said, finally, and Dean recovered partially the ability to breath. “In that case, using that particular way you have expressed yourself, _you’re one of my problems as well_ , Dean,” he added, and Dean wondered if Castiel’s face burned as much as his at that moment. “I will wait for you,” Castiel said and quickly rephrased it, “I mean, tomorrow, at the bakery? Will you come?”

“Of course,” Dean answered. “Are you at your house now?”

“Yes,” Castiel said.

“So, sleep well,” Dean replied. He knew he sounded like a teenager but, at that point of the conversation, he couldn’t care less.

Castiel snorted. “You too, even though I suspect you’ve already slept enough,” he answered, making Dean laugh. “Eat something,” he added. “That’s not a thing you do a lot.”

“I’m not hungry now,” Dean confessed. “But tomorrow, I could use one of your special sandwiches…”

“You’re free to choose whichever you want,” Castiel answered, all the implications the phrase had intense in Dean’s ears. “I will make you the stew I promised as well, someday. I don’t know if there will be time tomorrow but...”

“We will have time for stews, Cas, don’t worry,” Dean answered for him.

Castiel snorted again and agreed. “We will have time,” he repeated.

Then the conversation was over.

Dean looked at the clock in front of him and realized it was almost eleven at night. He adjusted himself more comfortable on the sofa, with the cell phone still in his left hand. In between dreams, he felt the phone vibrating once, twice, three times. He let it ring, and it wasn’t until the morning (or late morning) that he woke up and read the messages Castiel had left on his inbox.

 _“That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less, phrase by Arundhati Roy,”_ said the first one, and Dean’s heart constricted until he kept on reading. _“Even the smallest of words can be the ones to hurt you, or save you. This phrase is by Natsuki Takaya,”_ the second one said. Dean open the last message with a timid smile on his face, _“Words are a pretext it is the inner bond that draws one person to another. This phrase is by Rumi. I’ve just googled them. I could be totally wrong, but I definitely think we have a bond. A profound bond,”_ it said, and Dean used the energy that last statement gave him to start his day. _A profound bond_ , he liked that concept.

Dean bathed, changed himself, took a light breakfast, and ordered the apartment a little. It was a Friday, and he had to be at the office at that time, but he didn’t care. He didn’t check the time, not even once.

When he did, he discovered it was the afternoon already, and he hadn’t thought about work since he woke up. He checked his appearance in the mirror, dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt and a t-shirt underneath, and sighed. Those were clothes he found at the bottom of the closet. The infamous Old Dean was all over that look. It was as if he was giving his own standards in with that, somehow, but he didn’t want to wear a trendy suit that day, and deep down he knew why.

Dean took his wallet, the car’s keys and left the apartment. After a couple of hours and a couple of unplanned stops, Dean arrived to Overland Park. He considered parking at this usual spot, two blocks away from the bakery, but all the places were taken so he had to keep on driving. He cringed when, clearly, the only spot he could use was exactly in front of Castiel’s store, which meant exactly in front of his father’s shop as well. Dean considered other options, but he wasn’t going to walk more than two blocks to hide from a father who was unlikely to appear, so he decided against it.

Dean took the little box he had on the passenger seat and went out of the car. He locked it and instinctively glanced at the repair shop, sucking in a breath. There he was, Bobby Singer, in the flesh, who appeared out of nowhere, with his intimidating face looking intently at Dean. He gulped nervously, drawing a blank about what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to run away as soon as possible and forget the last couple of seconds, but on the other he wanted to make things at least a little better with his family. While his inner demon and angel were fighting inside him, Dean decided for them and raised his free hand, attempting a shy wave at his father. Bobby, though, remained motionless, staring at Dean almost threateningly, and giving him no other option than bowing his head and walking to the store, defeated.

Dean felt a knot in his stomach, an intense one that had nothing to do with the fact he was made a fool of by his dad but because he genuinely needed him to wave back, to share a smile, or a simple nod that allowed Dean to think, somehow, the door was open for them to fix their issues. There was no such a thing though, and Dean entered the bakery with his eyes slightly watery.

Castiel, of course, noticed Dean’s face without even saying a word to him. He went to the door, closing the distance between them and looking at Dean visibly worried. Dean saw him raise his hand doubtfully, as if he wanted to touch Dean’s face, but then Castiel decided against whatever he wanted to do and took Dean by the hand, guiding him to his usual spot by the counter.

“Why do you have that face, Dean? Were you crying?” he asked, once Dean was placed on the stool.

Dean shook his head, out of energy. “Just Bobby…” he said, and Castiel nodded, understanding. Dean was experiencing a thunderstorm of feelings inside him these days, but Castiel’s little gesture was enough reason to add a little bit of fascination for the baker in between all the other ones. He had never met someone as perceptive and kind as him. Dean was more and more screwed with every passing second. Their usual stare contest started, but after a moment Dean heard a noise on the kitchen, and Castiel closed his eyes, expressing tiredness.

“What the hell, Castiel?! What is this guy doing here?!” someone said out of nowhere and surprised Dean, who turned around only to find himself in front of Gabriel Novak, the bastard.

Dean made an attempt to stand up from the stool, but Castiel squeezed his hand a little harder (Were they still holding hands? How could it be that he didn’t notice?) and kept him still. When Dean looked at Castiel again he realized he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Gabriel, please,” he said, patiently, but Gabriel apparently didn’t get the message.

“Don’t _‘Gabriel please’_ me!” he answered, mocking Castiel unintentionally. Dean didn’t notice any malice on him, only frustration, as if Castiel’s kindness had turned against him before. It was likely, Dean thought. “Don’t you remember who this guy is, why the hell are you letting him in?” he added, louder but intending not to be heard by the customers. Dean wasn’t sure if he was being successful with that. Then Gabriel lowered his gaze and furrowed the brows. By his look of complete astonishment, Dean realized he was looking at their joined hands. “Oh, God, no!” he exclaimed dramatically, hitting his head with his right hand, all customers forgotten. “No, Jesus. Castiel, please, don’t tell me this is the guy you’ve m—”

“GABRIEL, TO THE KITCHEN, NOW!” Castiel interrupted, releasing Dean’s hand and walking stiffly to the other room. Gabriel didn’t move, and kept on shooting daggers at Dean until Castiel called for him again and he was made to follow his cousin to the kitchen.

Dean saw Charlie coming from the pantry. “Don’t worry people, we all have family problems!” she said to the customers, whose attention was completely focused on the shadows that could be seen from the kitchen, and went to Dean’s side. “Dean-o, how are you doing today?” she asked, leaning on the counter with her arms on it.

“Not very well,” Dean answered honestly. He knew Charlie wouldn’t push if he didn’t want to talk so he wasn’t obliged to lie around her. “I didn’t know Gabriel would be here, either. If I knew I would have come tomorrow,” he added, even when the thought of spending another day alone at his apartment was more depressing than Dean was able to deal with.

“It’s okay, the sooner the better,” Charlie answered. “He is the only family Castiel has, so he would clearly know eventually,” she finished, confusing Dean.

“What are you talking about?” he said, feeling lost.

Charlie smirked conspiratorially, “C’mon, Dean. You and me, we both know.” He looked confused but she minimized his reaction. “It’s not necessary to pretend with me,” she decided.

Dean considered his options for a couple of seconds. Even when he didn’t want to accept the fact he was experiencing the symptoms of a deep crush, he knew releasing all the stuff he had inside and sharing it with someone else would make him feel better. Somehow Dean knew Charlie was the best candidate he had at that moment.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked timidly.

“Only to everyone with eyes,” Charlie said with a cheeky smile. “And check I’m not saying _‘to everyone that’s not blind’_ because even Pamela of the esoteric store noticed. She asked me.”

Dean groaned, defeated and Charlie laughed. “I swear it was not my intention, kid. It just...”

“Happened,” Charlie finished for him. He agreed. “I know, dude, it’s normal.”

“Not for me,” Dean confessed. “I’ve never felt like this before, about anyone, whatever this is.”

“You don’t know what it is, I get it,” she said. “Do you want to know what it looks like?” Charlie asked back.

Dean shook his head. “Not yet,” he answered and Charlie smiled, not surprised at all. “Just, you know… I have a lot of things on my mind right now. Let me figure it all out, by myself if possible. What I want to do, who I want to be, how I feel,” he sighed. “A couple of months ago I wouldn’t had imagine myself in such a position,” he finished.

Charlie made a face, considering Dean’s comment. “Probably it’s for the best,” she said, and Dean didn’t answer. “I will tell you something, though, because I feel obliged to do it after our little chat here… but if you’re fooling me about this, if you’re chasing an ulterior motive we don’t know and would break Castiel’s heart…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean stopped her, bubbling within him. “What are you trying to suggest?” he asked. Charlie didn’t say a thing, which increased Dean’s indignation. “Why does everybody just… assume I’m a shitty person?” Dean asked, “I wouldn’t hurt Cas! Why do you think I’m still here, drinking his coffees and sharing fucking moments with him? Because I want to leave him out in the streets? Do you think I would be such an ass? With someone I’m suspecting I have feelings for?” he said and was in such a rush he didn’t catch Charlie’s expression.

“Oh God, you admitted it!!” she yelled, all customers focusing their attention on them again. “Repeat that last sentence you said, please!” she begged, and Dean looked at her clueless. Seconds later he understood and groaned, dropping his head into his hands when Charlie started dancing behind the counter. “I will tell you a secret, just a little one,” she got close to Dean, who was still trying to recover from the subconscious confession he had just made. “Castiel hates nicknames, did you know that?” she said and Dean shook his head. “Of course you didn’t. Castiel has no problem if _you_ are the one calling him Cas...” She walked away with a big smile on her face, after winking at him. “Think about it,” she muttered when she was at the kitchen door, but her expression changed completely when she looked at the entrance. Dean turned around and realized why.

Bartholomew came straight to the counter, and sat besides Dean without saying hello to anyone. He raised his hand, though, as if he was in a bar, and asked for Claire, who was polishing the silverware, to come. She rolled her eyes when Bartholomew didn’t notice and went closer to him.

“I want an espresso,” Bartholomew said, coldly. “And tell Casty I’m waiting,” he added and checked his watch, not caring about the rest of the universe. Now Dean understood why Castiel hated nicknames. Casty was kind of abominable.

Claire went to the coffee machine and before she could start to prepare Bartholomew’s drink, Dean added, “Could you please prepare me a lungo, Claire?” establishing a difference with the guy besides him. Perhaps Dean noticed similarities between them, he couldn’t avoid it, but he wouldn’t behave like an asshole to anyone, ever again.

Claire looked at him dumbstruck. “Hey, Hasselhoff, won’t you wait for C—?”

“You make excellent coffees too, don’t be humble, Miley Cyrus,” he interrupted and Claire made a ridiculous face, hiding her hand a little only for Dean to see she was flipping him off playfully. In their trivial play of _'I like you but I hate you'_ Dean considered her answer a victory.

He got more comfortable on his stool and waited a couple of minutes until Claire handed them the cups. Bartholomew never made an attempt of looking at him, so Dean made some noise with his spoon to catch his attention.

“I heard you were waiting for Castiel, if I’m not mistaken…?” Dean asked, in passing.

Bartholomew looked at him, visibly irritated for being spoken to. His expression changed into one, according to Dean, of mocking Dean's very existence.

“It’s you again. You spend quite some time in here, don’t you?” Bartholomew replied, chuckling.

“Oh yeah, I do. I’m friends with the owner,” Dean answered, imitation in his tone. “That’s why I asked you what I asked. Castiel is already busy with me tonight, so I don’t understand where you got the idea you had a date with him?” Dean had no idea why he said that, but now that it was out it sounded more than okay, as something he would love saying for real.

Bartholomew furrowed his brows, which pleased Dean terribly.

“What are you talking about?” he said, suddenly misplaced.

“Last night Castiel told me he had no intentions of going out with you, so I asked him out instead,” Dean smiled cheekily, “and he said yes, so, well, I’m sorry but you stand no chance.” Dean drank a little of his coffee, watching Bartholomew seethe out of the corner of his eye, and enjoying every second of it. Then he looked at the front and almost spat the drink out when he saw both Castiel and Gabriel had come back from the kitchen and had heard the entire exchange, Castiel’s cheeks a deep red.

“I didn’t know you were so popular, cousin,” Gabriel said, with a mixture of seriousness and foolishness Dean found suddenly fascinating.

“Casty,” Bartholomew began.

“Don’t call me Casty, please,” Castiel intervened.

“...this guy here is saying you will go out with him tonight instead of me,” he continued ignoring Castiel’s reply completely. “Since when would you choose someone as boring as him?” he finished, laughing at his own joke.

Castiel replied seconds later, looking even redder than before. “Since the beginning, actually,” he said. “It looks like you don’t know me as well as you think. And you don’t seem to understand what I mean with _no_. I’ve said _no_ to you more than once, including last night. No, I don’t want to go out with you anywhere. No, I don’t want to pursue a relationship of any kind with you. And frankly I find your continuous chasing a little creepy. Hope this time it’s different, however, and you will understand and respect my decision.”

Bartholomew took Castiel by the wrist, forcibly. “You won’t treat me like this,” he replied, but Castiel freed himself immediately. That’s when Dean thought it was his moment to act. Without second guessing, he threw the content of his cup on Bartholomew’s shirt, causing a real commotion. Bartholomew screamed and moved away from the counter, shaking his shirt. He watched Dean with murderous eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, smirking. “I’ve heard bicarb fixes the coffee stains, so don’t worry. Or vinegar, yeah, use vinegar! Sadly I have no idea what would fix that sour face of yours. Perhaps the cock of a guy who actually wants to fuck you,” he finished, taking a napkin from the counter, and cleaning the wetted surfaces, as if nothing has happened.

“This is not the last time we will see each other, imbecile,” Bartholomew threatened from the front door, angry because Dean was not paying attention to him, and Castiel had left him like a fool.

Dean laughed, not looking back at Bartholomew. “I bet,” he said, discrediting the other guy. “I will be waiting. Hope next time you don’t use so many movie phrases, though. You’re not a fucking Mafioso,” he added, when he heard the front door closing. Gabriel was watching him as if he was an outlandish specimen he had never seen before. “He's more similar to Zoolander, did you watch that one?” Dean added to Gabriel, smiling from ear to ear.

“I don’t understand what the hell happened,” Gabriel answered instead, bewildered.

“I defended your cousin, that’s what happened,” Dean answered. He looked at his coffee cup and realized it was empty so he raised it up and looked at Claire, ignoring Gabriel’s bafflement. “Your lungo was delicious, Lizzie McGuire, please make me another one,” he said, and Claire hid the smile she was wearing at the revelation as she made her way to the coffee machine. Then Dean took his wallet, and held out ten dollars. Castiel looked at him confused, but Dean shook the bill to get his attention. “For the coffees, Cas. The two of mine, and the one of that prick.”

“No, no, no,” Castiel answered shamefully. “I wouldn’t charge you for that, please Dean…”

“Castiel,” Dean said. “Take it, now.”

They both stared at one another for a while, Dean feeling the intensity of what they were not saying, until at some point Castiel reconsidered it and took the bill, ringing up the cash register to place it in the door. “Thank you, Dean,” he said, looking at him again.

Dean felt breathless as their eyes met. He didn’t know if it was the intensity in Castiel’s eyes, or the fierceness they gave off, but Dean found himself with a sudden necessity of kissing him, right there in front of everybody. It had happened to him before, more frequently as long as their meetings went by, but at that moment it was particularly imperative for him.

He decided against it, though, and gave Castiel the box he had been carrying with him. Dean couldn’t believe what a piece of wuss he was.

“What is this?” Castiel asked, taking it.

“It’s a present, Cas, of gratitude for what you did for me yesterday,” he said, feeling how much his face was burning. Gabriel was watching the exchange incredulously and that didn’t help Dean’s situation at all. Castiel made the attempt of giving the box back to Dean but Dean gave him no chance to do it. He put both his hands on his jeans pockets and shook his head. “Open the box, Cas, please,” he said and Castiel doubtfully complied. It was a silver Montblanc pen, with golden details that Dean had bought right before he went to the bakery. It had cost him more than two hundred dollars. Dean was sure the price tag wouldn’t express how he was really feeling at that moment, but somehow it was the only way he was prepared to show it.

“I cannot accept this, Dean, it’s too expensive,” Castiel said, rattled, and put the pen back in the box, trying to return it.

Dean took Castiel by the hand and closed his fingers around the box.

“Please, Cas, keep it,” he asked, almost begging. “Do you like it?” he said, and Castiel nodded. “So please, Cas, use it. I know you write a lot of notes in those scrapbooks you have, it would make me immensely happy if you would write with it,” he added. It was not a romantic revelation of any kind, but somehow Dean thought it was the corniest shit he has ever said.

Castiel said nothing, but didn’t free his hand from Dean’s grasp. “I will,” he decided, and fondled Dean’s palm unconsciously with his thumb. Dean had no idea when taking hands and caressing started to be a normal thing between them, but in that moment he couldn’t care less about it. “If you had given me a Sharpie, I would have been just as happy, Dean. That’s what I was trying to explain. It’s not the fact it’s expensive, it’s the fact you’re the one giving a present to me that matters,” he remarked and Dean blushed more than ever before. Castiel had clearly won their little corny competition.

Gabriel coughed to catch their attention. Both guys turned to look at him, but neither of them made an attempt to let go.

“This is too much for me, Castiel, I’m leaving,” he said, frustrated. “See you tomorrow,” he added to his cousin before going to the front door without saying goodbye to Dean.

Castiel must have noticed Dean’s disappointment over that, because he squeezed his hand tenderly and smiled at him. “Gabriel is stubborn, and he didn’t take well what you came here to do. But don’t worry, he doesn’t know you as much as I do, and he will understand what I’ve told him, eventually,” he decided, not mentioning to Dean what they actually have conversed about when they were at the kitchen. Then he released Dean’s hand. “Do you want something to eat, to accompany Claire’s coffee?” he asked.

“Whatever you think it will be best,” Dean answered. “Your food will turn me fat, I’ve already told you,” he added, cheekily.

“You’d look good with a few extra pounds, or, you know, you always look good,” Castiel replied and went to assist a woman who was waiting at the counter besides Dean.

While watching him work that day, in between their conversations, and Castiel’s interactions with his staff, Dean wondered how much time would pass until their playful flirting became too much to handle with simple words and glances. At that point, Dean had come to terms with his crush on Castiel, the biggest one he had ever experienced in his life, as well as he was sure Castiel at least shared the physical attraction with him, if his stares and smiles meant something, so they had a problem. Such a thing was not beneficial for them, by any means. Dean was the employee Sandover charged to force Castiel out of his shop. _‘You’re the hunter, he’s the duck,’_ Crowley had said once, and Dean had a hard time realizing it was a literal expression. If Dean didn’t stop that game they were playing it would hurt them both, or ruin their relationship, whatever it was they were involved in, and Dean knew that was the last thing he wanted to chase.

However, an hour after, when the staff started to leave and they waved at Dean with a big smile, even Claire, Dean knew it was already late. Not only didn’t he want to lose Castiel, but also none of his new friends. Charlie, who was the last one leaving the store, came and kissed Dean on the cheek.

“Don’t leave him alone while he cashes up,” she said and Dean smiled, shaking his head. “Even when I bicker with you and push you to say stuff, I trust in your silly face. Don’t disappoint me,” she added and that caused a big storm inside of Dean. It was literally the last thing he needed for his mind to be an absolute mess.

“I won’t,” he answered, and he meant it. He had no idea how he would do it, but he meant it.

Charlie patted him in the shoulder and left, locking the door with her set of keys. Dean observed Castiel by the cashier machine, counting bills and got closer to him. Castiel noticed Dean’s presence and stopped his task, raising his head to see him. He smiled and that overwhelmed Dean. Castiel’s smile was the reflection of how pure and awesome he was as a person, and Dean couldn’t understand how he was the receptor of such a good thing. He was unworthy, and a coward.

“Dean, it’s okay if you need to go, I’m used to closing by myself, don’t worry,” he said and returned to his activity, calculator in hand. Dean realized he was using the pen he’d gifted him, and his chest puffed up in pride. Rather than leaving, he used the last ounce of bravery he had inside and walked behind the counter, placing himself besides Castiel. For a few crazy seconds he thought Castiel would send him packing but instead he moved a little to make Dean a place at the counter. Dean’s desire to kiss him increased exponentially.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, final, and the implications that phrase had remained unsaid. “How much money you earned today?” Dean asked, in order to completely change the topic.

Castiel looked at him suspiciously. “I have to make the final sum, but… three thousand, more or less?” he said, unsure, waiting for Dean to react.

And he surely did, “What the hell, Cas?” he said, completely surprised. Castiel scratched his head and said nothing. Sure, Dean had seen the account books before, but having all the earnings in front of himself for the first time was kind of shocking. “Do you understand the successful business you have? Not a lot of bakeries make the amount you are! Oh God…” Dean paused. “Is this a normal close for you?” he asked, frantically.

“Yes,” Castiel asked, severely. “On weekends and Fridays, mostly. On weekdays, it’s half the money, I think…” he said looking at Dean, but Dean was not paying attention to him. He was crunching the numbers in his head, with his eyes closed.

“Oh, jeez, Cas…” he said, seconds later. “Three days a week you're making three thousand, and three days, as you don't open on Tuesdays, you're making one and a half thousand. That's thirteen and a half thousand a week, meaning fifty-four thousand a month! Cas, seriously. Oh God, how can you be fa—”

Dean said nothing else, he was completely appalled.

“You read the books, I’ve lent them to you. You knew this,” Castiel counterattacked.

“Books can be faked, God knows I’ve seen a lot of tricked books in my life. Jesus...” Dean answered, still surprised. “Taking into account taxes, utilities, suppliers, salaries, maintenance...” he paused to think, “It would leave you with an active of, I don’t know… five thousands a month?” Dean guessed, but still Castiel answered him nothing. “How can you be involved in debts, Cas?”

Castiel kept on doing sums and counting bills, without looking at Dean’s eyes. He closed the cash register once he left some charge inside it (and noting it down on his scrapbook) and put the money in his backpack.

“This goes to a safe lock until I can deposit the money in my bank account,” he said seriously. “It doesn’t mean I’m robbing the money from my own store if that’s what you’re suggesting...”

“What?” Dean asked, disappointed. “Do you still believe I'm here for Sandover? That I'm what? Looking to discredit you as a thief?” Castiel shook his head but Dean didn’t stop. “Do you still believe if I figure out what you’re doing I will go to your cousin’s office and I will tell him? Don’t you trust me after all this time?” he added out of frustration.

“I do trust you, more than I should,” Castiel confessed. “And this is exactly why I’m not telling you. I trust in you, but I’m scared about how you would react if I tell you.”

Dean sighed deeply. There was silence, an uncomfortable one he wanted to break at all costs.

“Castiel,” he asked. “Are you a gambler?”

“Oh, c’mon Dean…” was Castiel answer, who left the backpack at the floor and went to the kitchen to look for the keys. Dean didn’t like to be ignored like that so he followed him, scared of suspecting he had discovered the truth.

“That Miscellaneous Fees account is what is giving you shit, Cas. The reason for your problems. It’s completely unbalanced, and it makes no sense, even less if I see the real profits you’re making every day and you still are snowed up with mortgages,” Dean found Castiel by the sink, and placed himself to his side. He knew he was pushing but he needed some answers. He was sure whatever it was it would help him to make the better decisions for his own life, even if that sounded weird. “Do you like horses’ races, or I don’t know… Blackjack? I could help you with that, there are gambling counselors in Kansas, I’ve heard because of… someone,” he hesitated. “I could take you there, help you, Cas,” he started again but Castiel surprised him, placing his hands on both sides of Dean face, his own inches apart from Dean’s.

“I’m not a gambler, Dean,” he answered, and Dean felt his breath touching his lips. They were really close, and Dean found himself in an awkward mixture between feeling intimidated by Castiel’s tone and hard by his touch. If anything, he hoped his companion couldn’t notice. “My debts have nothing to do with cards or roulettes, and everything to do with what I have to do to feel at peace with myself. Now, please, help me to find my set of keys, because I’ve lost them,” he added, and stepped out of Dean’s personal space but not without rubbing both of his cheeks gently when he took his hands away. He started moving everything around in order to find his keys and Dean went to help him, unsure but without saying another thing.

After a long time of quiet searching, when Dean found himself in an awkward position to speak up again, Cas sat on the floor with his hands on the knees and sighed.

“I’m a disaster. I was sure I left them by the oven when I was talking with Gabriel,” he paused to see Dean sitting by his side and smiled. “Now you’re surely in a rush to go back home and I’ve locked us up in here,” he said and leaned his head back the drawers.

“You’re not a disaster, you’re just stressed out,” Dean answered, quietly. “Don’t think about the keys, and you will remember when you left them. It happens a lot to me, to be honest,” he chuckled and looked at his friend, who was looking back at him. “Don’t worry about me,” he added, lost in the blue of Castiel’s eyes. “I’m never in a rush to go back home.”

“Don’t say that, Dean,” Castiel replied. “It’s your house, you...”

“I live alone, Cas,” Dean interrupted. “Nobody is there for me at the apartment, or anywhere, in fact. Nobody asks me about my stuff while having dinner... I don’t have dinner at all most of the times,” he conceded. “My telephone never rings, my bedroom has some family portraits with pictures that were taken when I was at college.... It’s kind of sad,” he ended.

“I see myself in some of your points, to be honest,” Castiel said, taking Dean by the hand and lacing their fingers together. Dean knew they were playing a dangerous game but couldn’t do anything but squeeze harder.

“You have friends, and a cousin with a family of his own,” Dean answered, as if their tangled hands weren’t something that just happened, or something that needed to be talked about.

Castiel shook his face faintly. “It’s not the same,” he answered. “When I get back home at night, I open the front door and the only things waiting for me there are the pile of clothes that needs to be ironed, or the broom, or the bed that is still unmade because I had no time to do it in the morning. I don’t even have a dog. My grandmother would be disappointed if she knew,” he added, surprising Dean.

“Why would you say that?” he asked. “This is her store and you’re working your ass off to run it. She would be proud,” Dean added, meaning every single word of it.

“Thank you,” Castiel replied. “But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about this,” he said, putting his free hand behind his shirt and uncovering a thick golden chain with two golden rings attached to it. “My grandmother didn’t only leave me the bakery but also these,” he explained. “These are my grandmother and grandfather’s wedding rings. Apart from Gabriel, she was the only one who supported the fact that I’m...” he paused, and Dean’s stomach constricted, knowing what would follow, “that I’m gay,” he finished, and it was like a bomb for Dean. He knew it, of course, he didn’t need the confirmation, but having it said by Castiel himself was like a door that was opened for Dean to enter. He remembered Crowley’s words, to claim the shop by accusing Castiel of homosexual activities, and it all suddenly took on a new significance, that Dean found even more repulsive than before. It was not a joke, it was homophobic and disgusting. He closed the distance between them, in silence, as a sign of comfort. “She wrote it in her will that she gave me these to encourage me to find my significant other, but I’m still here, on my own,” he started again. “It is understandable,” he confessed. “I’m weird, socially awkward, extremely formal, I live for my shop… who would want to love me?”

“I w—” Dean interrupted himself, feeling like an utter coward. “I would say that if someone you love doesn’t love you back, they are mad, and they don’t deserve you,” he wanted to stop being a coward. Castiel was not a coward, Castiel was better than him. “I’m…” he said, and gulped. “I’m bisexual, so I understand you Cas,” he confessed, and felt his inside lighten as if that confession had been a heavyweight he had been bearing, and that kept him from breathing normally. “My family always knew, and they were always supportive about it, even when I had no idea what was happening to me, but I’m always scared of saying this, of showing who I am, mostly because of my job. I was always afraid of losing it; if your cousin realized I would be fired in seconds, and my job has always been the excuse I found to escape from my own demons in the real life. It was my only way.”

“You don’t have to escape from your demons Dean, you have to exorcise them,” Castiel said, visibly touched by Dean’s revelation. “This is what I’ve done with mine, having the family I have,” he added, quietly, pressing his free hand above the one that was tangled to Dean’s.

“Why are they like that with you?” Dean asked, genuinely concerned. “When they first talked to me about the job I had to do, they painted you as the worst of the worst. Stubborn, self-serving, good for nothing, irresponsible…”

“They were not lying,” Castiel answered, in a sad tone. “Look at this shop, I’m leading it to financial ruin.”

“You just need a little help to make it work better,” Dean replied.

“I need a miracle.”

“You need help,” Dean insisted. “And I’m not the best person to say this, but you need to start thinking a little better of yourself. When I first came here, I thought I would face someone completely different to you. You’re a kind boss, firm when you have to. You have a passion, and you explore it. You’re tenacious and even with debts, you administrate this shop with dedication and love. I don’t know Zachariah well, I barely see him at work, but I have the impression he’s nothing like you.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said in a murmur. “I wish good intentions were enough to get rid of him, but I’m not that lucky.”

Dean didn’t reply for some seconds, battling with himself in order to ask something he needed to know, or not. “Why are they using me to persuade you?” he asked before he could help it. Castiel raised his sight to see him. “I mean,” Dean tried. “You put a restraining order on them, and it expires in some weeks, right?” Castiel nodded. “Why would they act like this with you and me, instead of waiting?”

“They like manipulating people, probably they are enjoying while you suffer,” Castiel replied, and kept silent for a while. Dean noticed he was struggling with something so he left him be. “I may have an idea why he is doing this, but I’ve not shared it even with Gabriel. I’ve told you I trust you, haven’t I?” Castiel smiled. “I think he is worried I will go to Sandover and reclaim my share of the company,” he said, with a shameful expression.

Dean’s jaw dropped in surprise. “What?!” he asked when he recovered the ability to speak. “Do you have shares in Sandover?”

Castiel smirked. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Like... the 0.035 percent, more or less. It’s not always been mine, it was my father’s. When he died, it was transferred to me.”

“I’m not understanding,” Dean said and Castiel shrugged his shoulders.

“Sandover Inc. was founded by Zachariah’s parents, aunt Naomi and uncle Daniel,” Castiel started. “They were always really strict, and Zachariah was always the chosen heir.”

“And Gabriel? Isn’t he Zachariah’s brother?”

“Yes, but he is an artist, he’s a free spirit. He was never accepted in the family,” Castiel replied and Dean frowned. “I know, it’s not fair, but Gabriel couldn’t care less. Aunt Naomi was not usually big-hearted, but when my mother died, when I was a kid, she offered my dad Charles a job in the company. I suppose she liked him a little, or at least she suspected he was a good salesman. He worked there for ten years, full-time, and we were happy. He was so good in the job that Naomi gave him that percentage in gratitude, and it could sound a crumb to you, but my dad was happy with the little he could obtain.” Castiel sighed, and Dean pressed his hand on his a little stronger, making Castiel smile. “He travelled a lot for work, sometimes he was required in Europe, or Asia, to lure potential clients. When I was eighteen, he went to Rome. That’s where he died. Car accident. You know, he worked a lot and had millions of places to visit in a limited period of time. I was young, and I’ve always made bad decisions under pressure, so I sold our house to my Aunt to pay the body transfer, and the funeral taxes, and some debts my father had. I kept the rest of the money, though it was not much. I know,” he said, when Dean made an attempt to talk. “I was stupid. My grandmother didn’t want me to, but I did anyway. Aunt Naomi has always been a miser, but it’s not like she enjoyed the property for long. She died months later. Are you shocked already?” he asked, sounding embarrassed.

“A little,” Dean replied, and Castiel shook his head with affection.

“When my dad died, and I sold the house, my Aunt told me she couldn’t be gladder if I accepted living with them. Sometimes I think it was because she wanted to know what I did with my part of the shares, to control it, but I prefer thinking she liked me a little too. There were not good times, I confess. Gabriel was already living alone, and living with Zachariah and my uncles was hell. I felt in debt with the company, for giving my father a job for so long, I suppose, so I started working there as well. However, I was relegated to a data entry position, because according to Zachariah it was the only thing I could do, and I felt like a bird in a cage. They never accepted the fact I didn’t like working there as much as my dad or they did. Zachariah liked telling me I should do it to honor my dad, that I should work harder because he wanted me to follow his steps... it was insufferable. Their mistreatment of me didn’t stop there. They always made me feel I was living on loan, that I was in debt with them to some extent, and when they discovered I was gay one Christmas Eve, their reaction was more violent than the Pompeii eruption. Zachariah and his wife kicked me out of the house, and I left the company. I never came back, neither to Sandover nor to Zachariah’s house. I left with no more than my clothes, and that was all.”

“Have not never reclaimed your part?” Dean asked, astonished. Castiel shook his head in response. “Why? I mean, you could pay off—”

“They are a trigger for me, I don’t want to deal with them. They affect me negatively,” Castiel interrupted. “You’re not the only one reacting like this. My grandmother, Gabriel, Frank… everybody thought I was doing bad. But if recovering my part means I will have to face them from time to time, I prefer being poor.”

“Why didn't you sell it, so?” Dean asked.

“Frank and Gabriel were really interested in that, but my grandmother wasn’t. She was completely against it,” Castiel replied. “She said that was mine, that at some point I would understand it could be beneficial for me… I’ve thought about it, and since I’ve already let her down so much, I couldn't let her down on that too. I couldn’t sell them…”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but that’s literally the worst decision you’ve made,” Dean muttered, and sighed when Castiel shrugged his shoulders. “You should sell it now,” he said.

“I know, but I need a lawyer for that, one that takes care of everything, so I don’t have to contact them.” Castiel replied, sounding hopeless. “I cannot pay my wholesalers, much less a attorney.”

Dean kept quiet. He could mention Sam, if he was on speaking terms with him. “Where are you living now?” Dean asked instead, scared of what Castiel would answer.

“I saved the money my shares provided me all those months I lived with my uncles,” Castiel replied. “When I left Zachariah’s house I spent a couple of nights in a motel. But then I went to see my grandmother, who was worried and tried to contact me. She gave me shelter and some money to buy a house of my own. It’s small, but I’ve made it welcoming, I think. I cannot complain.”

Dean breathed deeply, in relief. “I feared you still had problems with that,” he said.

“Fortunately I don’t, but thanks for worrying about me,” Castiel replied. “Wait a minute,” he said after a few beats of silence and unlaced their fingers, standing up.

Dean watched him go to the main room, disappearing behind the door, and considered the situation he was involved in; sitting on the floor, dressed casually, sharing a more than intimate moment with someone he was asked to despise, but had learned to feel exactly the opposite. It was problematic for his career, problematic for the professional image he had been trying to maintain in front of Crowley, but with every passing second he was caring less and less about that. Castiel was someone special, someone the Old Dean would fight for, without a second thought. Current Dean only needed to find the strength to wake up and fight again.

When Castiel came back, minutes later, he appeared with two cups of cappuccino, and four plates with generous portions of cake and two big French bread sandwiches, all perfectly placed on one of the silver trays.

“Since we are having a deep conversation here, and we were talking about how sad our dinners are, I thought perhaps we could have dinner here today, keep each other company. What do you think?” he asked watching Dean, unsure.

Dean nodded, frantically. “Only tonight?” he asked, feeling a fire inside him he’d never felt before.

“I suppose that’s up to us,” Castiel answered confidently, placing the tray on the floor, in between Dean and himself, sitting again and looking at him with an intensity Dean was starting to feel used to, and enjoy. He took the cellphone and dialed Gabriel’s number. “Perhaps he has an idea where I left the keys,” he said to Dean (who had completely forgotten about them), but after that remained silent, clearly waiting for his cousin to pick up. He tried twice, without success. “He must have turned it off,” Castiel said then and stopped the call. “I will try Charlie,” he added, putting sugar in his cup and stirring it with his coffee spoon. Again and again Castiel ended up reaching voicemail, his expression becoming tight with frustration all over his features. “I don’t know where they are,” he complained, “probably asleep, it’s late,” he added looking at his watch.

“It’s okay, Cas, let’s just eat and talk,” Dean said, and was surprised by how natural it sounded. He bit off a mouthful of his sandwich and groaned in pleasure. It was exquisite. “Oh God, Cas, this is amazing,” he said and Castiel smiled, timid. “What’s in it?”

“Lettuce, tomatoes, blue cheese, grilled chicken and mayo,” Castiel answered. “Not a lot of mayo since I don’t like it. I think sandwiches taste better when their focus is in the other ingredients,” he added.

“It’s true!” Dean agreed. “I don’t remember the last time I ate mayo… I don’t remember the last time I did a lot of stuff,” he confessed, mouth full. That behavior was so Old Dean that it hurt his pride to realise he was enjoying it.

“Like what?” Castiel inquired.

“Like going to the movies, or I dunno, dating someone, eating hamburgers, sleeping until midday, talking with my brother without it ending up an argument…” Dean exemplified.

“I take it that your conversation with him the other day didn’t go well…” Castiel asked, eating his own sandwich.

Dean shook his head, “It didn’t,” he confirmed and sighed, still hurt from the conversation. “He is gonna be a father, you know?” he left the sandwich on the plate. “Sam had been trying to tell me for months, literally, and I was so involved in my own shit that I always ignored his calls. At some point, he lost it and stopped calling. If Jo hadn’t come here to tell me I had to call him, I would have been the only one who hadn’t known…” he paused and kept on eating. Castiel kept silent. “I feel like I have to do something, but I don’t know what. I need to fix our relationship, somehow.”

Castiel considered for a while what Dean had said.

“Was it always like that?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?” Dean replied.

“You and your brother,” Castiel cleared. “Was it always like that? Arguments and estrangement?”

Dean sighed. “Not at all,” he said. “To be honest, we were really close when we were kids and teenagers. After what happened to my parents, Sam was always more a son than a brother for me,” he revealed and Castiel made a clueless face. “Didn’t Ellen or Bobby tell you about us?” Dean asked and Castiel shook his head. “I suppose you’d guessed because of our surnames, but we are adopted, both Sam and me,” Castiel nodded, giving Dean a reason to follow. “Our real parents were friends of Bobby and Ellen, when they were not yet married,” he started explaining. “My mother died in a fire, and that was the start of our problems. Sam was a baby, but I remember it all. It was difficult for us, we were kids and motherless, but my dad was the one who took it the worst. He started drinking, leaving us alone in the house for days, even weeks. He started gambling as well. That’s why I thought maybe…” he mumbled and Castiel nodded again, “Bobby tried to help my dad, you know, taking him to gambling counsellors, but everything was in vain. He was convinced that life was pointless without my mom, and he didn’t seem to care we were still alive and needing him. Those years were hell. I was a kid, so I had no money to feed Sam. He was always a good kid, calm and responsible, and never gave me problems. But we needed money to eat so I had to start working...”

“As a kid?” Castiel asked, shocked.

“As a kid,” Dean repeated. “Bobby had no idea, he thought dad was taking it bad, but he didn’t know he used to abandon us. One day he found out and all hell broke loose between them. Bobby took us with him to his house, and my dad appeared, once in awhile, to ask us how we were doing and if we wanted to come back with him. Bobby never let him take us.”

“And what happened to your father?” Castiel asked, visibly moved by Dean’s story.

“It was like that for a while, he came and went. Sam started to hate him, something that destroyed me inside because I still loved my dad. I could never change it,” Dean replied. “But then, one day, he called Bobby and told him he was in trouble, that someone dangerous was coming after him. A week from that, the Kansas police found him dead in a wasteland. The truth was that he made some bad friends while gambling in shit-holes, and probably stole money… that’s what the officers told us, anyway, we never knew for sure.”

“Oh God, Dean,” Castiel said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean replied, and this time it was him taking Castiel hand, as a sign of understanding. “I’ve made peace with that,” he said, even when he was not sure that it was true, “the point is Sam and me, wow, Cas, we were inseparable, even after Bobby and Ellen adopted us which is a hell of a story I will tell you another day,” he said and Castiel smiled. Dean suddenly realized he would tell everything to that smile. “I suppose something broke between us when he moved to California,” Dean confessed.

“Why?” Castiel asked, curiously.

“For a variety of reasons, I suppose. But mostly because there was always a difference between Sam and me,” he explained. “While Sam is a real independent man, I’m not. He doesn’t need his family around to function properly, and I do.”

“And now ironically Sam is the one that is physically away from his family but close to it, and you are still here in town, sharing no words with them, pushing them away,” Castiel said, understanding Dean, who nodded. “Sorry that I’m asking you this, Dean, but… are you trying to sabotage your happiness somehow?” Castiel asked then, surprising Dean, who was finishing his sandwich since he had stopped talking. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. What I’m trying to say is,” he doubted. “I’ve made that mistake in the past, with my family and myself. When my dad died, I was practically obliged to follow the rules of the clan, to be part of the family company like the rest of them, to obey Zachariah. Even when I didn’t want to do it, I did. And you’ve no idea how unhappy it made me. I did it to be accepted by them, somehow, but I was terribly dissatisfied.”

“When did that change inside you?” Dean asked, interested.

“When I was homeless, I could say. That was extreme. But I still thought I’d failed them at that time, that I was the one doing wrong, that they were right to kick me out… that lasted until my grandmother gave me the bakery,” Castiel answered. “She knew I liked baking, that I liked this,” he said, pointing to the whole kitchen with his hand, “but I was a prisoner of my own family, and the impositions they put on me made me think I couldn’t do it. She freed me with the bakery, she allowed me to be my own person, you know?”

“And how do you think that translates to me?” Dean inquired.

“Because I feel you’re doing exactly that, but not for an external imposition, but a standard you’re putting on yourself. You want to make your family proud of what you’ve made, to prove to everybody you’re as independent as your brother, that you can do what he does. But in the end, that makes you an entirely different person, and that hurts you and the ones you love instead of making them happy,” Castiel replied, confident of every word he was saying. “Am I right?”

Dean didn’t know how to answer to that, because he never stopped to analyse it, but it was probably true. Dean wanted to thank Ellen and Bobby for all the stuff they did for him, by reaching a good life standard, but perhaps he was not doing it right.

“Probably not,” Castiel agreed, shocking Dean for a while, thinking Castiel was able to read his mind. “You were talking aloud,” he cleared up with a smile, easing Dean’s worry. “If you chose a bad way of showing your appreciation, if you think that is what is happening, you only have to rectify it. Life is full of different paths for us to take. We can choose them right, or wrong, but the good thing is we can always turn around and look for a new one if we don’t like the path we’re on,” Castiel finished, and kept on drinking his cappuccino.

Dean went silent for a while, eating the piece of cake (which was delicious) besides his friend. It was all so surreal, but still pleasant and something he would like to keep. If Dean had to choose a new path to walk on, he would choose one that allowed him to do that.

Suddenly, instead of thinking, he preferred breaking the silence.

“What do you suggest I do now?” he asked.

Castiel placed the folk on his plate and considered his answer a little. “I think you should call your brother, and say sorry,” he decided. “That would allow him to make an apology of his own, and you two to mend your relationship. It won’t be easy or quick, it’ll probably be a slow and rocky journey, but eventually it will happen. I don’t think either of you want to be like this forever, and you will be an uncle. Babies always bring the best out in people, perhaps it’s the moment for you.”

Some minutes later, once they finished the food, Castiel stood up, and started collecting the silverware, Dean helping him.

“You clean and I dry,” he volunteered and Castiel gladly accepted, working for a while in sync and silence, until Dean couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Do you like children?” he said, out of nowhere, with a cup in his hand and the dishcloth in the other. Castiel looked at him in confusion, so Dean have to repeat his question. “Since you’ve said babies always bring the best out of people, I mean… would you like to have kids of your own?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, directly. “With the right person, I would,” he added, looking at Dean intensely in the eyes. Dean abandoned the cup on the counter and looked at him in the same way.

He didn’t know who was the first one closing the distance between them, or how it happened, but clearly they were in each other’s personal space, and if one of them had moved only a little, it would…

 

 

 

“CASTIEL! ARE YOU THERE?” a voice yelled from the main room, seemingly headed to the kitchen. Castiel and Dean jumped in fright, not moving from where they were, until they discovered it was Charlie. Castiel supported his head on Dean’s chest and sighed deeply. “Oh,” she said, after discovering them in that compromising position. She looked from Dean to Cas and back again, more than once, with an expression that suggested she was genuinely sorry of interrupting them. When Castiel left his place by the counter and went to where she was stood, Dean knew he was sorry as well. “I just wanted to say I picked up both mine and your set of keys. I suppose you were alone and I didn’t want you to sleep in here but, oh God I’m so sorry…”

“Why would you be?” Castiel asked, denying the obvious, even when his voice suggested otherwise. “We had dinner and were waiting until I could remember where I left the keys. I never thought you could have taken them,” he confessed. “I was worried for Dean, I didn’t want him to sleep uncomfortably on the floor, or be locked up in here against his will, I—”

“I’m never here against my will, I like this place,” Dean replied honestly, with a smile. Castiel looked at him in such a way, so full of emotion and meaning that left his breathless. However, he chose to escape. “I’d better get going, though, it’s late, we all need to sleep,” he said, apologetically.

Castiel nodded, even when he didn’t look like he was convinced, and looked at the floor, distracted. Dean heard Charlie mutter “I’m sorry,” when he kissed her on the cheek in goodbye, but he whispered it was okay, even when it was not.

“Hey Cas,” he said, to catch Castiel’s attention again. “See you,” he added weirdly.

“When will you come back?” he asked surprisingly.

Dean looked at him, not knowing what to say. Be brave, he thought. Be brave, be brave.

“Whenever you want me to be here,” he answered. Judging by Castiel’s blush, it wasn’t that bad.

“Tomorrow, then?” Castiel pushed, and it was Dean’s turn to blush.

He confirmed it, anyway. And with that, he left. He wanted to hug Cas goodbye, or kiss him on the cheek as he had done with Charlie, but he couldn’t do it. They went from being in each other’s space, to being embarrassed to look at each one, and Dean didn’t like that. Dean wanted to look at Castiel and be looked at by him as much as possible. He wanted the completion of whatever they were sharing, in front of whoever wanted to look.

Later that night, alone in his bed, he remembered some of some of what Castiel had said.

_‘You can always turn around. You can always choose a better path to walk your life.’_

He took the telephone and dialed Sam’s number without thinking twice. Dean waited three, four calls until someone yawning answered it. “Hi, Sam,” he said, vacillating.

“Dean?” Sam answered, surprised. “It’s midnight, dude, I don’t want to argue at this time of the night. Please, can we talk tomo—?”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said and his brother stopped talking altogether. “Not for, you know, calling right now but... “ he paused, “I didn’t call to fight with you, I’m calling to see if we can start mending our relationship somehow, because since our last conversation I’ve realized I don’t want to keep going this way, separated from you and the rest of the family, and I want to work my ass off for that to happen. I want to be a cool uncle for my niece or nephew, giving them presents and playing with them, talking with them about the stuff they wouldn’t tell you… I just, I need to.”

“I’m—” Sam said and stopped. “I can’t believe this, I thought the time would never come that you’d say something like that,” he confessed and the lack of hope Sam had in him hurt Dean. “I want to be in harmony with you as well, dude. It’s just you… you don’t have to _‘work your ass off’_ to make the family close again. You only have to be you,” Dean’s pride wanted to answer him back but this time it didn’t win. “You are responsible and smart, trustful, loyal, caring… all that stuff together is uncommon to find in a person, you don’t need to hide what makes you special to prove you can be someone else. I know this angers you, it’s just that it hurts me a lot, seeing you like this. I’ve probably said hurtful words to you as well, I’m sure I did. I did it to try to wake you up, and I was wrong. It was not what you needed, so I’m sorry as well,” he said and that made Dean’s heart race quicker than before.

“Oh God, Cas was right,” he said before he could avoid it.

“Cas?” Sam asked, yawning again. “Who’s Cas?”

And there it was, the question Dean didn’t know how to answer. Who was Castiel? Castiel was the owner of the bakery he was supposed to convince him to sell, but that somehow was never talked seriously between them. Castiel was his boss’ cousin. Castiel was someone who hid debts in such a way Dean couldn’t figure them out.

But, who was Cas for Dean? Was he only an acquaintance? Was he only a friend? Was he just Dean’s crush? Or was he the guy Dean had started to have deeper feelings for? The guy Dean thought had some kind of feelings for him as well?

“I don’t know how to answer that question yet, Sam,” Dean answered honestly.

Sam didn’t say a word for a while, until he chuckled, understanding. Sam was smart.

“I get it,” he said. “Whoever this _Cas_ is, though, if they helped you to call, if they’re a part of you remembering who you really are, please Dean, don’t let them go.”

Dean smiled to himself, confidently.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” he said. “It’s not my intention.”


	6. Dulce De Leche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to use something from my country. If you don't know what dulce de leche is, please check [this recipe](http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/dulce-de-leche-recipe.html).

That weekend was an exceptional one for Dean, at least, according to his previous standards. He changed his usual activities (that consisted in working, and a little bit of sleeping before working again) and he couldn’t deny the fact he had enjoyed it.

He went to the bakery on both Saturday and Sunday, during which he spent almost all his time there talking with Castiel about their lives, bickering about the stuff he gave for free to the customers, and flirting shamelessly practically every passing minute in front of everybody, which didn’t make Dean rueful in any way.

The fact was that Dean was absolutely amazed by Castiel, and he couldn’t hide it anymore. It was not only about who he was as a person, but also how he was as a boss. Dean was really impressed by how busy the bakery was and how Castiel managed all that. The tables were basically full the whole time, and there was a really interesting flow of customers coming and going at the counter, always with a smile and a salutation. Sometimes Castiel served, sometimes it was Charlie. Kevin and Claire had more than enough work serving tables and Benny was full time in the kitchen, preparing cakes and breads. It was a shop that worked non-stop, six days a week, whose staff knew one another perfectly and respected their activities. Dean realized he would love working in a place like that.

There were moments when Dean realized something had changed irrevocably in his life. For instance, at some point in the afternoon on Saturday, a customer came from outside and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Hi Dean,” they said, and it hit him as a bucket of cold water. Dean didn’t remember the name of that man, although he remembered his face from past days. The guy, however, remembered Dean and smiled at him as if his presence on the bakery was something positive, something important enough to call to mind.

“You look better in jeans,” Jody said to him on Sunday, when she went to buy bagels, and Dean blushed when he saw, after his thank you, that Castiel was nodding at her.

Dean didn’t say it aloud, of course, but privately enjoyed that in Castiel’s apron pocket, the pen Dean had given him was clearly visible. Castiel exhibited it proudly and wrote every order and annotation on his notebooks with it, placing it again in its home when he finished.

“Who gave you that?” asked a brunette girl with a ponytail Dean remembered was called Krissy, or something similar.

“Dean,” Castiel answered simply, pointing out at him, as if that answered everything.

“I see,” the girl said when she turned around and looked at Dean, smirking. “You’re already in the gifts step, huh? I wonder what will be next...” she added slowly then and took the money out of her wallet to pay for her lemon pie. “You have to give him something now, Castiel! It’s mandatory,” the girl said when she was about to leave, at the door.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asked once the girl was out of the bakery, smiling.

 _'A kiss'_ , Dean wanted to say, but he finally answered, “A mocha.”

Castiel turned to the coffee machine, laughing as if Dean was the funniest guy he’d ever met. Sometimes, Dean wondered if those flirting advances Castiel gave him were unconscious or as deliberate as the ones Dean gave him back. When he saw him smile like that, though, he had the impression it was the latter, and that made him feel a little more alive inside. He knew it was rushed, and he still had no proofs to say it was mutual, but he couldn’t help feeling bubbly.

“Oh, I love this song!” Castiel said once he came back to Dean with the mocha in his hands. Dean paid attention to the background music and it was Pink Floyd. Today was surely a day when Kevin chose what they would be playing. “I think it fits you,” he added, surprising Dean.

“Why?” Dean asked, amused. “Do you think I’m a _‘crazy diamond’_?” he added.

“Actually, yes,” Castiel answered. ”And that you _shine like the sun_ ,” he added, completely direct and to the point. “However, I think it’s more profound than that,” he concluded, turning away from Dean to answer Benny’s call with whatever the baker needed.

If Dean went all the way to his apartment examining minutely its lyrics while singing it in the car, he didn’t tell a soul.

When he was not at the bakery, Dean exchanged uncountable text messages with Castiel , to the point there was almost no time of the day when they were disconnected from each other. It was an alien behaviour to Dean, borderline intimate and full of hidden feelings, but Castiel usually made Dean smile with the anecdotes he shared and the remarks he made, so the intensity of it didn’t worry Dean in the least bit. _Profound bond_ , Castiel called it once. Dean believed it was true.

“You’re smitten,” Sam said on Sunday night, when he called to see how Dean was doing. That was another thing that had changed for the better in the last couple of days. Even when there was still sharpness in between them, since everything couldn’t be as it used to in a blink after all those months of ignoring and arguing, things were getting better and that invigorated Dean distinctly. However, in moments like that one, where Sam was able to read him even in the distance, Dean wanted to stop the conversations and hide his head in the nearest hole. “Your smile can be seen in California, dude. That can only mean one thing,” he added.

“No, please, Sam, stop…” tried Dean, groaning.

“You’re in love,” Sam decided, energetically.

“Oh God, please, don’t start,” Dean repeated, in frustration, trying to nip Sam’s declarations in the bud.

“You’re in love dude, I know you!” Sam repeated, loudly and Dean heard a female voice chuckling behind his. Here it was, the last straw. Sarah was hearing as well. Dean tried to interrupt Sam but his brother was rejoicing in such a way (Dean missed those moments, to be honest) that he couldn’t do it. To the contrary, Sam continued his monologue. “I’ve known you all my life! And you’re always so transparent about your feelings!” Dean thought it was an irony but he didn’t mention it. If anything, he and Sam had been at odds all those years because Sam couldn’t read how Dean was feeling, or Dean couldn’t express it properly. “Remember that time dad took us to the Grand Canyon, and you screamed _‘I love the Smurfs’_ with all your might when you were on the edge? I remember your face, the sound of your voice, how happy you were. You sound like that,” he finished.

“Dude,” Dean answered, belittling his brother even when his heart was racing like a bat out of hell. “You’re out of your mind, you have no idea what you’re talking about…”

“Look Dean,” Sam said more seriously now. “I understand if you don’t want to tell me, or if you don’t want to deal with how you feel right now,” he explained. “We’re only just speaking properly again, and you are probably not comfortable sharing this, it’s perfectly understandable. It’s just… I’m happy for you if that’s what is happening. I may have an idea who they are, but I will wait until you tell me.”

There was silence after that, until the white noise of the line disturbed Dean.

“I,” Dean started, doubtful. “I will tell you if something like that happens,” he finished. “You will be the first person I will tell, in fact.”

Dean could hear how Sam was smirking from the other side of the country, and that comforted him. “I bet you will, jerk.”

Oh, that word. Dean didn’t remember when it was the last time he heard it. Probably things were changing for the best.

“Shut up, bitch,” he answered before saying their goodbyes.

It was the first time in months Dean went to sleep with a smile on his face, and woke up the next day in a good mood. He lost it a little when he realized it was Monday and he couldn’t prolong his absences at work any longer.

He grabbed the first suit to hand without looking which it was (something unlikely for him) and had a quick bath. After some boring minutes driving on streets full of angry drivers and construction, he made it to Sandover. Becky looked at him as if he was a ghost and greeted him with a serious expression, which left Dean uneasy on his walk to his office.

When he arrived at his desk, he turned the computer on and started reading his emails. It was full of spam, new tasks to do and accounts to analyse, and he found it all a little boring. The newest email caught his attention, though, Crowley had written it.

 _“Mr. Winchester: I wait for you in my office, at 10:00 AM. Be punctual,”_ it said and Dean stopped breathing in that exact second. He remembered his conversation with Madison that past Thursday, and the final statement she made to him. Dean was scared shitless, but not only about himself or his position at work.

He checked his clock, it was half past eight, meaning he still had time to prepare for the massive reprimand he was about to have. He tried to concentrate on the different tasks he’d planned to do, but somehow every once in awhile he remembered what was coming for him and that didn’t help his productivity at all. At some point his cellphone vibrated. When Dean checked it, he saw it was a text message from Castiel.

 _“Have a nice day, hope it all works out,”_ he read and Dean seriously thought he had powers of some kind. He replied he was not sure how the day would turned out to be, and realized while sending it that it was almost ten. Fuck his life. Dean placed the cellphone in his pocket and left his office in such a rush he almost bumped into a couple of fellow accountants before catching the elevator.

When he arrived at Crowley’s floor he checked his clock again and since it was not ten yet he sat at one of the armchairs in the hall. Dean waited five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty, and shifted in his seat more than once before the door suddenly opened and a stunning brunette appeared. Her eyes were covered by sunglasses, but the rest of her face denoted she didn’t look pleased at all. Crowley was standing in front of his desk, with a smile on his face, as if he was enjoying her reaction.

“You will burn in hell, repugnant pig!” she yelled before leaving the room slamming the door. She didn’t pay attention to Dean, who was still sitting on the armchair, looking at her curiously. It was crazy, no doubt, but somehow he thought he knew her from somewhere. That long hair, severe pose and glamorous clothes. Wasn’t she…?

“Dean Winchester, will you be staring at Miss Talbot all day or you will follow me to my office? I don’t have all day. Come in,” Crowley said, who appeared suddenly in front of him, even when Dean hadn’t heard the door opening again.

Dean’s stomach sank because the meeting hadn’t started as promising as he would had wanted to, but the last name his boss had just said was what had caught Dean’s attention. He clearly knew that woman. She was Bela Talbot, one of the most famous faces of Kansas News, famous for her outrageous scoops and exclusives. What would she be doing there? Why would she leave the room in such a way? Dean had no clue, and preferred following Crowley than making him angrier than he was.

Crowley closed the office’s door behind Dean and ushered him to sit on the chair opposite his. He sat behind his intimidatingly large desk, and looked at Dean with an expression difficult to decode.

“Since you didn’t come to work either last Thursday or Friday, and nobody knew a thing about you, apart from Miss Madison Vaugier of Human Resources and your rude answers to her, I thought you were dead,” he started, in a grave tone. “It’s good to see you’re safe and sound,” he stopped, staring at Dean in a way that made sweat prickle on the back of his neck. He had no idea what to do, and played with his tie until Crowley deigned to speak again. “I’d really like knowing why you were absent.”

Dean hoped Crowley couldn’t tell how he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “I had fever, and an intense throat ache,” he lied and prayed to all the Gods he didn’t believe in to please help him.

“You look perfectly fine today,” Crowley retorted.

“It’s because I’ve rested at home for four days,” Dean answered, as politely as he could.

“Four days? Are you sure, Mister Winchester?” Crowley said, in a tone that implied disbelief.

“Yes,” Dean replied, impressed by the courage he was showing.

“Good to know, your treatment may help me if I find myself in such a difficulty in the future,” he said, sounding ironic, and downed his face. “I don’t think we are all touched by the same angel as you, but still, I will try,” he opened a drawer and took a paper out of it. “As you may remember, since Miss Vaugier told you, we need a proof you were sick to add to your bundle. Said certificate, in your case, does not exist. Is that true?”

Dean wanted to answer something different, he wanted to keep the courage alive. “Yes, sir,” he replied instead and had a sudden necessity of hitting his head against the desk.

“You will have to sign this, please,” Crowley said and handed Dean the paper.

Dean read the title aloud, “ _Breach of employment contract_?” he repeated. “What?”

“Keep on reading, sir. Aloud,” Crowley insisted, with a tone that didn’t allow Dean to say no.

 _“This is a Written Warning addressed to Mr. Dean Winchester, member of the Accounting Department of Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc.”_ Dean read, his anger evident, _“in order to record an unsatisfactory job performance from him, on Thursday the 19th and Friday the 20th of November, 2015. In both cases, Mr. Winchester acknowledged the company telephonically of a health problem he suffered that left him unable to report to work. In the face of a member of the Human Resources Department who asked for the medical certificate he should provide, he denied to provide it after numerous requests and mistreated his workmate, who felt insulted and reported the conversation to her superiors,”_ Dean breathed irregularly for a while. Crowley, in the meantime, kept silent. _“This kind of behaviour, as specified on the company’s rules and regulations known and signed by Mr. Winchester, results in the loss of Mr. Winchester’s productivity bonus over the course of three months. Mr. Winchester will be responsible for improving his interpersonal relationships and sending his superior the proper documents if this situation happens again. If Mr. Winchester does not accomplish the tasks previously asked, his superior will consider further disciplinary action, up to, and including, dismissal.”_

“I think it’s an excellent description of what happened, and what consequences it will have for you,” Crowley opined, the smile never leaving his face. Dean nodded, wishing he could leave at that precise moment, but his boss was waiting for something else. “C’mon, Mister Winchester, sign it,” he commanded.

Dean took a pen from the desk with a trembling hand. He tried to sign as meticulously as his condition allowed him and handed the warning to Crowley, who return it to the drawer. Dean was praying for the meeting to be over then, so he could be released of his boss’ presence, but Crowley was still looking at him intently and Dean knew he had other plans.

“A little bird told me you spend a lot of time at Novak’s bakery,” he said then, surprising Dean completely. Things, indeed, could get worse. “Since I’ve not asked you about this in weeks, I’d like you to tell me about your advances there. Let’s see, I suppose you’re taking your task seriously, are you?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, sir,” Dean lied instantly, even when the topic of selling the bakery or any actual negotiation between Castiel and him was completely forgotten behind conversations of their daily lives, or food, their shitty pasts, or their never ending flirting. Dean should had been ashamed, but that was not how he was feeling.

“May I ask what’s your plan of action? Why do you spend so much time there?” he asked then, and Dean had literally no idea what to say.

He tried to plot something spontaneously, but Crowley’s stare was difficult to ignore.

“I’m planning to be his friend in order to convince him,” he said, as gravely as he could. The thought of performing such an act, though, was absolutely revolting for Dean.

Crowley’s smile intensified. “Really?” he asked. “That’s what you’ve been doing?” Dean nodded nervously and that apparently was enough for him. There was a God. “It’s not a very original move,” Crowley said, “but clearly you’ve been doing better than others...” he added and let the rest of the comment die in his mouth. “Do you remember you only have three weeks more?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered, kind of amazed at how quickly time passed since he had met Castiel for the first time. “I will do my best,” he pointed out, thinking that this time he was not lying that much.

“I hope you do,” Crowley answered. “Remember if you don’t, you will come back to a junior position, and if you add that to the fact you won’t have your bonus for a while, I would do my best to avoid it. It’s a significant loss of money for you. Do you want it?”

“No,” Dean answered, but he doubted that.

“Good,” Crowley said, after looking at Dean as if he was reading him. “Go back to work,” he added later, and Dean couldn’t stand up faster. When he was at the door, Crowley started talking again. “Are you sure you’re playing with Castiel, or is Castiel the one manipulating you?”

Dean turned around, angered by this last question. “Honestly, I don’t know. You’re the expert in that area,” he said and opened the door. “If you’ll excuse me,” he added and left the room.

While he was walking to the elevator, his legs trembling from the fear, he wondered where the hell that last answer came from. It was the most courageous thing he had done in years. Even while he was scared of Crowley, he was particularly proud of what he had said and he would do it again.

Once at his office, he breathed in and out deeply for a while, sat in his chair, until he was calm enough to keep working. Crowley hadn’t followed him, that was an advantage. He started typing on the computer and some minutes later his telephone rang. He thought immediately of his boss, calling to tell him he was fired, or something similar, so he decided not to pick up. It worked for a while, since the telephone remained silent, but when it started ringing again, Dean had no other choice than answering it.

“Sandover Iron and Inc., my name is Dean Winchester, what can I do for you?” he repeated as he had done millions of times. The other side of the line didn’t respond him. Dean frowned and asked again.

“It’s me, kid. I didn’t know if I was listening to a human being or a machine,” someone said finally and Dean froze at that. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Could that be…

“Dad?” Dean asked, skeptical.

“Did the _dad_ return?” Bobby answered back. “I remember last time we shared a conversation you said that I was not your father. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, I do,” replied Dean, thinking it was yet the beginning of a new quarrel between them. “It doesn’t mean I believed it at that time, or that I think it now. I was pissed.”

“Pissed because I asked you not to devote yourself to a company who would use you?” Bobby said, turning the volume up. “For the same people you’re still working for?”

Dean didn’t want to fight. To be honest, he didn’t want to fight with his father ever again. Instead of answering him, he closed his eyes and counted to three.

“Dad, look, I’m experiencing some,” he doubted, “changes in my life right now, and I’m really stressed out because of that. I don’t want to fight with you. Not today. Not ever again,” he confessed, and breathed deeply. That day the exercises worked. “If you’ve called for that, I’m sorry but I cannot play with you. I’d prefer if we could talk instead of bickering, and try to solve our issues, I genuinely think we can. I did it with Sam, the other day,” he paused. “Still mending, I mean. It’s still rocky and everything between us, but we are talking over the phone without screaming, and we’d made our peace. I’d want to do that with you, and Mom as well, if you want. I’m sorry if I hurt you, I really am.”

Bobby listened without saying a word, staying silent for a while after Dean finished speaking. Dean thought he was about to yell at him, in any moment, and waited for the inevitable.

“It was true what they said about you,” Bobby answered disconcertingly.

“What?” he asked, confused. “Who were you talking about me?”

“Take it easy, idjit,” Bobby replied and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t heard Bobby’s cheeky insult for years. He wouldn’t cry, but certainly he was feeling like he wanted to. “There were two people who asked me please to call you,” he explained. “That you’ve changed, that you would listen, that you would say sorry, blah blah. They were right, so for that, for mistrusting you and thinking they’d lost their minds, I’m sorry as well, kid,” he finished, and Dean knew he was being honest, by the tone of his voice, dubious and firm at the same time.

“Did Sam talk to you?” he asked, tearful again. He was not expecting for Sam to act in his name like that, after all the stuff that had happened between them. Bobby confirmed Dean’s question, and Dean’s chest constricted at that, even more when Bobby asked him not to be an idiot and cry. “Who was the other one? Mom? Jo?” he asked then, and Bobby denied both. Dean had no idea who else it could have been. “Seriously dad, was it mom?” Dean asked again.

“I’ve told you it was not,” Bobby answered nervy. “You may have changed a little but you’re as stubborn as always. Think better, son.”

And Dean did. The truth was there was nobody else who knew about their situation apart from the family. “Was it Sarah? She doesn’t know me, why would she...”

“Kid,” Bobby groaned. “Guess better, use your academic brain properly or I’m ending this conversation.”

And then someone else clicked in Dean’s head. But it was impossible. Completely and absolutely impossible. Why would he do that? Why would he help him in such a way? It was not possible, but Dean couldn’t think of someone else.

“Was it Cas?” Dean asked, and he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Bobby huffed. Dean had missed that huff. “If by _Cas_ you mean Castiel Novak, my neighbour at Overland Park, well, you’re right,” he said. It was impossible, he must have heard wrong. It was impossible. It was not possible. “He came to the repair shop a couple of hours ago, with his apron all full of chocolate spots. That kid, he is seriously formal but really passionate about the stuff he cares about. I knew he was like that, Ellen always tells me, but today I’ve realized by myself.”

Dean heard, in disbelief. It was impossible, but still, apparently it happened. “What did he say to you?” he asked, even when he didn’t remember he was asking.

“I won’t tell you, kid, I’m not _The National Enquirer_ ,” Bobby answered and that made Dean chuckle. “That’s between me and him, don’t be gossipy. All I will tell you is that guy is unusual, a remarkable person that everybody in the neighborhood loves, and if he makes a strong bet on you, the way he is doing right now, I have to give you both a chance.”

“Thank you dad,” Dean said, tears slipping free to roll on his cheeks.

“It’s okay, kid. I’m glad this is happening, as well,” Bobby replied and that made Dean cry a little more. “Stop crying, Jesus, I’m not telling you off, son.”

“No, you’re doing something way better than that,” Dean answered, still sensitive. Both father and son stayed quiet, until Bobby broke the stillness again.

“Would you like to have dinner with us today?” he asked, timidly.

“Are you serious?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Of course, dumbass, what have we been talking about?” Bobby answered, huffing. “We could sit all together at the table, as we used to do in the old days, talk about our lives, as a family should do,” he added. “If you say yes, both Ellen and your sister would be happy. They still love your stupid face,” he finished, and Dean laughed at the well known insult.

Dean thought about his options, and how his family situation changed again in only a couple of hours. If he was firm on the decision of fixing his relationship with his parents, and he was, he would start taking the opportunities life was giving him. In more than one sense.

“I accept the offer,” Dean said, his heart beating really fast until Bobby laughed at his formality. He hadn’t thought he would experience that buddy-buddy treatment between himself and his father ever again. “I just…” he paused, and thought he was crazy for just suggesting what he was about to suggest. “Can I bring someone else with me?” he asked, as if he was a teenager.

Bobby considered it, humming. “Someone like a girlfriend?” he teased.

“Not a girl,” Dean answered, before he could think twice.

“A boyfriend, then?” Bobby replied, interested.

“I hope,” Dean said, realizing he meant it, without a doubt. He wished Castiel was boyfriend material for him, and there was no reason to deny that, not anymore, at least not to himself.

“Good luck with that,” Bobby said, before repeating that the family would be waiting for him, and his mysterious guest, at dinner. “Tell your date to comb his hair, please, it’s always a mess,” he declared, and finished the conversation, leaving Dean completely at a loss.

Fuck his life. He had been so transparent his dad even figured it out over the phone. If he wasn’t more careful Crowley or others equally dangerous would discover it as well, and that would be a resounding disaster.

He returned to his activities, and skipped lunch in order to finish the work he left on hold because of his long conversation with Bobby and his morning adventures at Crowley’s floor. At some point in the afternoon, his cellphone vibrated on his desk, announcing a text message. Dean took it and read.

“How was your morning?” Dean smiled. Castiel surely knew how to do it.

“I’m more than okay,” Dean typed in response. “Thank you, Cas,” he added, before sending it. Dean completely forgot about the incident at Crowley’s office when he thought about his day. He didn’t care about it as much as he suspected he would. Old Dean was gaining ground and this Dean didn’t mind.

Some minutes later the answer arrived. “It’s a pleasure for me to help you. I do it because I care,” it said, and Dean wondered if there was another meaning hidden in those words. In all honesty, he wanted it to have more than one meaning. Dean had no idea what to answer, but Castiel didn’t give him the chance to think when his cellphone vibrated again. “I have a BLT sandwich waiting for you, will you come today?” it said, and Dean found himself fascinated by how naturally it all flowed between them.

“I can’t wait,” Dean wrote and sent. Seconds later, after checking out the clock and noticing it was later than three, he sent a new one. “I will be there in an hour,” it said and Dean didn’t know if he was possessed by someone but he sent a third one with a winky face. Castiel answered nothing back, and Dean couldn’t believe how anxious that made him. It couldn’t be explained with normal words how screwed up he was.

When his leaving time came, he took the satchel, and shoved his belongings inside. He politely waved off to the people he encountered on the way to the front door, but before he could put a foot outside the company, Becky stopped him.

“Mr. Winchester, you have to sign this,” she said, in a tone that was way weirder than the one she usually used.

“What is this now?” Dean asked, rolling his eyes and Becky handed him the form. “ _Personal Phone Calls on Company Time_?” he read, outrageous. “What is this, a fucking prison?” he asked, louder than intended, and a couple of employees turned around to look at him. Becky made them leave, belittling Dean’s words.

When they were alone, she started whispering.

“Phones are monitored, Dean, I thought everybody knew,” she said, and Dean thought he was about to faint, remembering the kind of conversation he shared with Bobby and how many times Castiel was mentioned. “They are not, like, you know, listened to, which is a shame, actually,” she added and had no idea how much that calmed Dean’s guts, “but every made or received calls is matched to the database, and if it’s related to someone that is not on the safe contact list of the company, well, it means it’s personal. I honestly thought everybody knew,” she repeated and handed Dean the pen.

“Not everybody is like you,” Dean answered, and Becky, instead of feeling offended or insulted, smiled at him, as if being the biggest gossip girl of the building was something to be proud of. Dean shook his head and took the pen, signing on the paper. He handed them both to Becky but when she was about to take them, Dean took them back to his space. He added an arrow after his signature and wrote _“nonconformity”_.

When he gave them to Becky for real, she read it and her eyes widened in surprise. She opened the drawer and took a corrector out of it.

“Don’t you dare putting corrector on it, Becky, it’s a special message for Mr. Crowley, don’t waste it. Have a good day,” he said and left.

Dean was all the way to the bakery laughing at his behaviour and how little he cared about Crowley’s reaction the next day. He parked the Prius at the same spot outside the bakery, and looked at the repair shop in the hope he could find someone looking back at him. And indeed, Bobby was there and raised his left brow after noticing Dean’s big smile. The younger man didn’t stop smiling and upped the ante, waving at him, visibly eagerer than the last time they faced each other. In this case, further improving Dean’s good spirits, Bobby waved back.

“What a smile!” Dean heard exactly after he opened the door. Castiel was serving a couple at the table closest to the entrance, having a big smile of his own, that made Dean feel butterflies in his stomach, even when that sounded terribly corny.

He was moved by a sudden desire to hug Castiel, and since it was a day when he did what he pleased instead of doing what he was supposed to, he gave in to it. Thankfully Castiel didn’t carry a tray with him, only his notebook (and his pen) so Dean wouldn’t cause a disaster. He walked straight to Castiel and, without saying another word, he wrapped his arms around Castiel, hugging him strongly. Castiel responded immediately, laughing funnily at Dean’s surprising reaction, and placing both his arms on each side of Dean’s neck.

“I did as I pleased today, Cas. I’m feeling like I’m free, you know?” he whispered to Castiel’s ear while he raised him up a little, taking advantage of the fact Castiel was shorter and lighter than him. In response, Castiel hugged him a little harder, and Dean thought there couldn’t be anything better than that.

“How does it feel?” Castiel questioned, in a murmur. His mouth was so close to Dean’s ear that every word tickled. Dean verified that there were, indeed, more arousing sensations than an affectionate hug.

“It feels awesome,” Dean replied, meaning more than one thing. He broke the hug and looked at Castiel intensely in the eyes, personal space completely forgotten between them. “This place feels awesome.” _You are awesome_ , he didn’t say.

“Who knew a BLT sandwich would have you this excited?” Castiel said, staring at him in a way Dean didn’t know how to handle. Both Castiel’s hands were on his shoulders now, but Dean’s never left Castiel’s back.

“It’s not only for the sandwich,” Dean said, courageous, and Castiel blushed imperceptibly.

Then someone wolf-whistled behind them and the spell was broken. Dean turned around and it was that Krissy girl, from the other day. But it was not only her; basically every table, or rather everyone in the bakery was looking at them, most of them with sloppy smiles. Dean wanted to feel embarrassed and exposed, weak and defeated, but on the contrary, he felt an inner power he didn’t remember he had.

Krissy walked to the counter and Dean heard her murmuring to Charlie, “They are already at the public affection step. They are escalating, like, quickly,” she added and Charlie laughed, handing her a dozen of muffins.

“Please, forgive my clientèle,” Castiel said, looking at Dean from the corner of his eye, cheekily. He didn’t look ashamed, and that was a good sign for Dean. However, he separated himself a little from his friend before following him to the counter, where Castiel looked for the promised BLT sandwich in the fridge and placed it in front of Dean.

“You will make me fat with all this bacon,” Dean insisted, joking.

“And I insist you would still look good,” Castiel answered, and left him in order to assist other clients.

There was a kid with his mother asking for bread and biscuits. In between the requests, he murmured something to his mother and she asked him to please stop, repeatedly. Although, when Castiel came back to the counter with the order in his hand, the kid disobeyed his mother and asked Castiel directly if Dean was his boyfriend. The kid’s mother apologized again and again but Castiel dismissed her words telling her it was not a problem.

Castiel looked at Dean, who pretended to be on another planet, completely ignorant of the conversation besides him, and answered as quietly as he could. “Unfortunately he is not, Jesse,” he said and Dean tried to hide how quick his heart was beating because of that answer. The pair left the bakery, the little boy seemingly disappointed by Castiel’s answer, but Dean wondered if next time he asked, things would be different.

Dean wanted them to be different.

When the flow of customers decreased a little and Charlie took charge of the counter, Castiel went to sit on the stool beside Dean, with a couple of coffee cups in his hands.

“I like your smile today,” he said, and Dean wondered how Castiel could say such an amount of romantic stuff without losing his stoicism or intending to be romantic. Dean was not able to do that.

“I’m happy today,” Dean answered, though. “That’s in part because of you, Cas.”

“I just crossed the street and talked with your dad for a moment,” Castiel answered, minimizing the importance of what he had done.

“It was more than enough, Cas,” Dean answered and finished eating his sandwich.

“How was work?” Castiel asked then, curiously.

“It was horrible, but I don’t want to talk about work,” Dean answered, and took the chance before it was late. “Actually, I have a proposition to make to you,” he said then, and placed himself better on the stool so he was watching Castiel face to face. His friend frowned, unsure of what he would say. “Dad asked me to go to have dinner with them today, at their house,” Dean started and put a hand on Castiel’s mouth when he attempted to share his congratulations, shushing him. “Wait… I just asked him if I could bring someone else with me,” Dean declared, and raised his brows, but Castiel remained clueless. “Cas, I’m asking you to come with me,” he said, and waited for Castiel who was still confused.

“Why would you want to share such an important family moment with me?” he asked, completely puzzled. Even when he supposed it, Dean didn’t know if he wanted to slap him on the head or kiss him right there in front of the whole bakery.

“Oh God, Cas,” he answered, frustrated. “I’m not doing this out of obligation or, I don’t know… because I feel I’m in debt to you for what you’ve done… or something,” he sighed, a little frustrated because Castiel was similar to him in the self-esteem department. “I’m asking you out cause _you are one of my problems_ , remember?”

Castiel nodded, somehow embarrassed, and smiled timidly at Dean. “Did I hear right? Are you _asking me out_?” he said and it was Dean’s turn to be as red as a tomato.

“I’m asking you out,” Dean confirmed, however, and both guys smiled nervously at the statement. “Would you go out with me tonight, Castiel Novak?” he asked, playfully.

“Yes,” Castiel answered, and Dean released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I would go out with you tonight, or on any other day you asked me to,” he said, and if it wasn’t for an old lady who asked for Castiel to attend her, and Castiel only, Dean swore he would have kissed him.

“Sorry,” Charlie expressed apologetically, walking to his side. “I tried to persuade her…”

“It’s okay,” Dean lied, in a disappointed tone. “I’m a little tired of being interrupted, though. Every single time I want to make a move!” He sighed. “Perhaps it means I shouldn’t do it, I don’t know.”

“Bullshit,” Charlie answered. “You have no idea because you don’t have a mirror to look at your face, and you haven’t known Castiel for as long as I have, but, jeez, the way you look at each other, there’s no way that could be wrong.”

“I’m scared,” Dean confessed, watching Castiel who was on cloud nine talking with the old lady, about God knew what.

“Love is always scary,” Charlie said. “You only have to be powerful enough to defeat the monsters that surround it, if you know what I mean,” she added, winking and slapping Dean’s hand cheekily, before leaving him alone.

 _Love_ , it was a word Dean didn’t know too much. Yes, sure, even against all odds he had the love of his parents, and siblings, but Dean had never loved another person romantically, and he honestly never thought he would be able to do it, or that the other person, much less someone as extraordinary as Castiel, could profess that kind of love for him in return. It was hard to believe, and extremely terrifying for Dean, all at the same time.

Dean needed to think. Alone, about his decisions, and his current situation, and he always thought better in the shower. Which was why he called out Castiel’s name and told him he would leave to his apartment before picking him up. Castiel frowned, and Dean hated to see him worried like that because of him, so he excused it by saying he needed a shower and a change of clothes. It wasn’t a lie, since he didn’t want to go to his parent’s house in a suit that didn’t either represent what his parents wanted to see of him, or what Dean himself wanted to show to others. He was more than a trendy suit, more than an accountant of an important company, and he felt like an idiot for thinking for so long that he was.

Once in the shower, he not only untangled his thoughts, as previously planned, but also took care of his dick, hard after a fantasy that included Castiel naked on his bed. Every stroke Dean made felt guiltier than the one before, because that’s not how Dean intended to act. Dean didn’t want to reduce Castiel to a handsome guy who he wished he could have sex with. It was not like that, not anymore. Perhaps at first it was an understandable situation for Dean; Castiel was a stranger and he was attracted to him, but now, a couple of months and a significant amount of shared moments later, Dean wanted more than just sex.

Dean knew lusting over someone wasn’t wrong, but while drying, Dean couldn’t help feeling a little dirty, and swore it would be the last time he would let that happen.

He dressed in a pair of jeans, and a white shirt he found after completely messing up the wardrobe. He looked at the mirror and he found he was really comfortable with how he looked. Yeah, it was exactly how he’d dressed in the past. Yeah, that was a past he had wanted to hide for a long time. But, on the other hand, that past was clearly who he was, and exactly what Dean wanted to be again.

Dean took the car keys, a dark red sweater and locked his apartment up. When he arrived at the bakery, it was almost eight, and Castiel was already cashing up.

“Wow, are we closing earlier today?” Dean asked, and after he said it, he realized he talked in plural. It didn’t bother him, but he prayed for Castiel not to notice.

“Yes, I have a date,” Castiel answered, raising his eyes a little and looking at Dean mischievously. Dean blushed and went to the counter. He looked at the money displayed on it in order not to make eye contact with Castiel in that moment.

“Was it a good day?” he asked instead.

“A standard one,” Castiel answered, and started picking up the bundles, counting out loud while saving them. “It’s one thousand four hundred and thirty two, with forty six cents.”

“I don’t understand how you can have debts...” Dean started, proud of the bakery’s earnings, but completely confused by the red numbers Castiel had to deal with. His friend stopped him from saying something else, and Dean complied.

They closed the store together, and Dean wished it wasn’t an unusual event but rather something that he could do more often.

“How far from here do your parents live?” Castiel asked, once he stowed the bakery’s keys in his backpack.

“Um…” Dean doubted. “Fourteen or fifteen blocks?” he said, unsure. “I don’t remember, but it’s not more than that. Newton Street, do you know it?”

Castiel nodded. “What do you think about walking there?” he asked, and the question surprised Dean. “I like walking a lot, but I will understand if you don’t want to. This is a safe neighbourhood, the car won’t be stolen or anything, but it’s up to you,” he explained, quickly and nervous.

If this was one of the changes Dean would be exposed to from now on, he would gladly accept.

While walking together, close to one another because of the cold (and because they wanted to) Dean rediscovered how enjoyable and easy was for him to share his time with Castiel. He didn’t need to pretend, in any way, or to play a part in order to feel accepted by him. Castiel opened his arms to him no matter if Dean wanted to tell him an embarrassing experience he had, or a serious opinion, and Castiel always had something to share in return. With them it was all giving and receiving, and those fourteen blocks, while talking animatedly about everything that came to their minds, while Dean laughed at Castiel’s wit, while Castiel smiled at Dean when he replied back with something even wittier… Dean realized that was what his life was missing, and what he wanted to experience from now on.

“I’m particularly interested in bees, this is why I use honey in my cakes so much,” Castiel said at some point, Dean committing all his attention to him. “I find them extremely interesting, how devoted to work they are, how they organize themselves in colonies.” He stopped and looked at Dean intensely in the eyes. “I think bees are the most feminist species of the animal kingdom,” he said, never losing his seriousness.

Dean chuckled because, after such a declaration, he couldn’t help it. “Are you serious, Cas?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Of course,” Castiel answered naturally and kept on walking, Dean following. “Queen bees are the mother of all, they are followed and respected by workers and drones, fiercely protected. You don’t see that in other kinds of species.”

“You’re forgetting lions,” Dean pointed out. Castiel made a skeptical face and Dean found that was a trigger to keep on talking. “Female lions hunt together, being all badass, while the males use the excuse of protection of the pride to sleep. They are attentive mothers while keeping their group alive and fed, that's pretty feminist. Independent women and all that jazz, they are like the Destiny’s Child of all animals.”

Castiel answered nothing back and kept on walking, looking defeated and thoughtful. “Nevertheless, they still don’t produce honey.”

Dean laughed at that, and in an impulsive act, he hugged Castiel by the waist, leaning his head to Castiel’s shoulder. “Jesus, Cas, you crack me up like no one else,” he said, completely shameless of their new adopted position.

Castiel smiled at the same time he took Dean’s hand in his. Apparently they were both on the same page. “Is that good or bad?” he teased, after some seconds of silence.

“It’s the best,” Dean answered, without thinking too much.

“So, I think it’s a great thing you’ve met me,” Castiel replied, and kept on walking.

Dean immediately remembered Missouri’s words. _“Have you met someone?”_ she asked, weeks ago, but Dean had dismissed her completely. The truth was that Dean had, and even when he wanted to deny it at first, that someone was Castiel. _“You will have to make decisions, you will lose and you will gain,”_ Missouri had explained to him, and now, at his parents’ house, knocking at their door after years of silence, with the most handsome and attentive guy he had ever met by his side, Dean realized what she meant.

Ellen and Jo hugged him with all their might, his mom even shedding some tears into Dean’s collar. “I’m so sorry for ignoring you all this time,” Dean said to them both, with tears of his own. Somehow he felt if he said it more than once, they would know he was really repentant.

They both apologised as well, which made Dean tear up a little more, and then invited him to come in. Once inside, Ellen hugged Castiel intensely, and Castiel hugged her back while she thanked him for what he had done to her family.

“I’ve done nothing,” Castiel insisted, and Dean wanted to yell at him for how stubborn he was, but Ellen beat him to it.

It was when Dean was at the kitchen door that he heard his mom dismissing Castiel by saying he was the best thing that had happened to Dean in years. Castiel insisted on saying she was exaggerating, but Dean made a mental note to inform him she was not.

Bobby was in the kitchen, stirring the sauce and the meatballs. He received Dean with a smile and no tears, but that was Bobby’s personality, and Dean couldn’t be more glad to enjoy his stoicism in first person again.

“Did your boyfriend finally comb his hair?” he asked, while stirring the sauce with a spoon before offering Dean a taste.

“No,” he answered, chuckling and taking the spoon Bobby had offered him, because denying the _boyfriend_ part was futile at this point, and honestly, it was something he didn’t want to do.

Once they were all at the table, sharing the meal, Jo decided to tell Dean she had a boyfriend.

“With a sexy mullet,” she added, biting a mouthful of pasta unceremoniously.

“I didn’t know you liked mullets,” Dean replied. Jo made a derisive face and kept on eating. “I didn’t remember you chewing spaghetti like a cow either,” he added, which cost him a boot in the ankle from his sister. “Don’t fucking kick me, Jo!”

“Dean,” Castiel warned seriously. Everybody at the table turned to look at him. “Your language,” he said then, and Dean’s blood froze. He got caught up falling back into old habits with Jo and he didn’t think Castiel would feel uncomfortable… “You said it wrong. It’s not _Spaghetti_ , it’s _Tagliatelle_ ,” he said into the awkwardly quiet room. Jo was the first one who burst into laughter. Ellen and Castiel himself followed her lead seconds later, Bobby preferring to chuckle while shaking his head. Dean remained surprised, looking at Castiel with a dumb expression on his face, as if he was a jack-in-the-box. “Wake up, Dean, I’ve made a joke,” Castiel added and Dean chose to attack his friend with a breadcrumbs’ ball as a response, leading to a general laugh, again.

Once the laughters diminished, and everybody resumed eating, Dean took the time to observe every one of them. He didn’t remember the last time he felt at peace with himself like that, free to say whatever he pleased, free to smile and enjoy, free to live. Dean realized, at that place and that moment, that he was completely and truly happy. It was an emotion long forgotten for him, surrounded by the pressure and the standards of a kind of life that no matter how hard he tried was clearly not for him.

Now that he rediscovered how great it felt, being surrounded by people who cared about him, he didn’t want to let it go. Every anecdote of each member of the table reminded Dean about good moments of the past, moments he didn’t want to forget, moments he wanted to repeat, improve and enrich.

“Nobody told you how mom and Bobby got married? That’s a story to share!” Jo asked Castiel, extremely excited.

Bobby groaned. “Stop girl, don’t embarrass me,” he said but Jo didn’t pay attention to him, insisting on talking about it and looking for Ellen’s approval. When she gave it, and Bobby groaned even more, Jo told Dean to do it.

“I’ve promised I would tell Cas one day, not particularly in front of him,” Dean said pointing out at Bobby and Ellen laughed at the confession. Jo was over the moon and mumbled to Castiel it was the best love story in existence, while Bobby tried to stop the conversation altogether. “Dad threw up on her when he proposed,” Dean started seconds later, ignoring his father, Jo’s laughing hysterically.

“You’re not telling the story from the beginning, idjit,” Bobby complained.

“The beginning is depressing,” Ellen replied.

“I wouldn’t say depressing, I would say it’s the epitome of patience,” Jo pointed out and looked at Castiel, who was astonished, looking back at them. “Do you want to know?” she asked and Castiel nodded. “Tell him, Dean.”

And so Dean did. It was a long story, that included both Ellen and Bobby’s previous marriages and widowhood. Jo was the daughter of William Harvelle, who had died in a hunt when she was a little girl. Bobby had only been Ellen’s acquaintance at that time, but his own experience with his deceased wife Karen and their similar grief made them friends. Dean and Sam were already living with Bobby at that time, so they had witnessed the whole romance, and Dean remembered in detail how Bobby had fallen in love with Ellen and how much she helped them all when John was absent and after his death.

“At some point, Bobby was so head over heels with Ellen he decided to organize a reunion for her birthday and declare his undying love for her,” Dean told Castiel, who was paying complete attention to his narration. “I remember he made us cook, because for the love of God he cannot touch an oven without exploding the whole kitchen.” Bobby chuckled. “I made a pie, my first one ever, with apple and caramel. Sam made the pizza while Bobby took care of the drinks. He was so nervous he started drinking before the party started, and when the guests came here he was a mess.”

“I got worried for him,” Ellen added, looking at her husband lovingly.

“Yeah, she was around him all the time, telling him not to eat so many slices of pizza, but he didn’t obey,” Dean told them and Bobby grunted. “After we cut the pie he asked for everyone’s attention. I was praying for him not to say nonsense, but he was pretty direct. He told us all he loved Ellen, and wanted to marry her. He went and climbed on his chair, his confession never ending, and apparently the vertigo was so strong he threw everything up.”

“On my clothes,” Ellen added.

“And he fell off the chair, and managed to break an ankle,” Dean added.

“We all ended up in the hospital, and he came back home with a cast and in a wheelchair,” Jo concluded, having a blast.

“It’s embarrassing, can you stop?” Bobby muttered, clearly angry.

“I think it’s romantic,” Castiel said. Dean knew he was serious. “Loving someone so much you’re scared of confessing your feelings… it’s intense. Don’t you think, Dean?” He couldn’t say that was a foreign feeling for him, so he nodded, and Castiel smiled, looking at Bobby again. “If I were you, I wouldn’t feel ashamed, Mr. Singer. I know emptying one’s stomach or having an accident in the middle of confessing your love isn’t the most conventional way of doing it, but you meant it with all your heart. Look at the family you gained, in the end it was worth the spectacle.”

Bobby looked at Castiel stupefied. “Thank you kid, it truly was,” he said finally, and resumed eating. Castiel looked satisfied with himself, and went to Ellen, congratulating her on the delicious meal.

Dean agreed with him. The pasta was tasty, whatever it was called, and he was having the time of his life, surrounded by people who clearly loved him and made him feel like he belonged in their company. For the first time of many that night, he wondered how he could had exchanged them for a job that, apart from money, gave him nothing.

Dean looked at Castiel then, who was talking with his mom as if he had known her for years (and he surely did, but Dean was never present to see that happening) and everything clicked in his head. Dean knew what he had to choose, what he had to lose, and what he had to win out all of this. Missouri’s words have never been more clear to him.

Why would he throw away being happy with his family or miss an opportunity to be with Castiel?

After hours of chatting and laughing, he helped Ellen to cut the apple pie Castiel had given them earlier in the afternoon.

“He walked to the shop and asked me to carry the pie with us instead of him cause he wanted to give you a surprise, love,” Ellen told him, with a wink, and Dean feel like fainting.

He found himself wondering how many people would be praying all around the world to find something like this in their lives. How many people were alone, waiting for someone to care about them, to love them. Dean had all the ingredients he needed to enjoy of a good life and be spiritually rich… it was his time to act on it. He poured cream on top of his piece of pie as a mute promise that from that moment on, something would change in him.

Ellen and Bobby said goodbye after the dessert, and went upstairs to bed, but not without asking Dean to please stay the night. He didn’t want to intrude, but both reminded him that it was his house as well, and Dean accepted gladly. He was really touched by the offer, and instead of letting his eyes water again he went outside and sat on the porch stairs.

Some minutes later, as Dean had imagined he would, Castiel appeared and sat beside him.

“I wanted to give you some space, but,” he said, doubting a little, “to be honest I wanted to be here if you needed to talk. Did I do right?”

Dean sighed, without looking at him. “Of course, Cas, you always do,” he said and Dean heard him chortling quietly. They were really close, Dean noticed, their shoulders almost touching.

Both guys stayed silent for a while, not caring about the wind, that was so strong the flag on the neighboring house was waving frantically.

“I had a great night, Dean, I think you should know,” Castiel said, Dean’s heart racing in his chest. “Your family is really attentive,” he added and if Dean felt they closed the distance a little after that, he didn’t mention it. “What about that car? It’s your father’s? I had never seen it before in the repair shop,” Castiel asked after another moment of silence, and Dean looked at him confused. He had no idea what he was talking about.

Then Castiel pointed out to the left and Dean saw her. It was a black and impressive Chevy Dean didn’t notice when they had entered the house, hours ago.

“Oh, God,” he replied, the tears he tried to surpass attacking him again. “It’s mine,” Dean answered. “It’s my ‘67 Chevy Impala. I’ve thought…” he breathed deeply and dried his eyes. “I thought Bobby sold it or something, out of anger for how I left them.”

“Why would he do that?” Castiel asked, truly puzzled.

“Yeah, I know, I have no idea what I’ve been thinking most of the time…” he said, frustrated by his reactions in the past. “It’s just, I just abandoned her, along with the rest of the family, and bought the Prius, because Crowley told me a serious professional wouldn’t use a car like that. And I said yes, because I always said yes, no matter how ridiculous the instruction was,” he finished, rubbing his hands over his face, strongly.

Castiel stopped him, and took both his hands in his, placing them on his lap.

“Hey, stop doing that,” he ordered, affectionately. “Don’t hurt yourself. That car over there, it fits you, Dean. It looks unique and valuable, as you are, and it has been waiting for you to come back,” he continued and Dean turned around in order to see Castiel clearer. “That’s what you have to focus on. Perhaps meeting her again means you have to start driving her again?”

“It sounds dirty,” Dean replied, and both smiled at each other. “To be honest, I think it means more than just, you know, using my old car again,” Dean confessed. “I think I have to recover a lot of the stuff I used to do. Today I felt happiness running through my blood, Cas. I felt free, and appreciated. I don’t want to stop feeling like that.”

“Then, don’t,” Castiel said, and placed his right hand on Dean’s cheek, as a sign of support. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but if you need me, I will be here for you,” he added, timidly.

 _Be brave,_ Dean thought. _Be brave. Be brave._

“I need you,” Dean confirmed, proud of finally saying it. He mimicked Castiel, placing his hand on his friend’s face, their foreheads touching. Castiel closed his eye after some seconds of staring at each other and released a deep breath.

Be brave. Be brave.

Dean closed the distance between them a little more, to the point their mouths were brushing against each other.

Be brave. Be brave.

Dean was. Finally.

He leaned in slowly, and kissed Castiel on the lips, closing his eyes. Castiel responded immediately, although not in a passionate way, but chaste and quick. Even when he didn’t want to, Dean broke the kiss, and opened his eyes, anxious to see Castiel’s reaction. Their foreheads still touched, and neither of their hands released the other’s face, as if they were afraid of what would happened if they were apart.

“Thank you,” Dean said. “Thank you for helping me, thank you for appearing in my life, thank you for opening your life’s door to me, even when I don’t deserve it...”

Castiel stopped him from saying something else by kissing him again. This time, though, it was everything but chaste. Dean tilted his head a little to improve the angle, deepening the experience between them. They were both out of practice, but neither of them cared, moaning as they bit at each other’s lips hungrily. They closed the space between them even more, to the point that they were hugging. They only got slightly separated when the kiss was over. They were human, after all, and needed to breathe at some point.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel replied, simply, and they kissed again. One, two, three times.

Dean didn’t remember when the last time was that he made out like that with another person. If he took into account this was not only sexual but also included a whirlwind of feelings, the answer was probably never. When at a particular moment Castiel kissed his cheek naively and Dean still found it erotic, he knew for sure that had never happened to him before.

“It’s late, Dean, I need to go home,” Castiel said, after some minutes of silence, where they were simply in each other’s space, breathing the same air, Castiel’s face on Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s hands brushing Castiel’s hair. “I have the feeling it’s later than midnight,” he added, sounding asleep.

“It _is_ later than midnight,” Dean confirmed, after checking his watch. Castiel made an attempt to move, but Dean gently stopped him. “Please, don’t go,” he asked to Castiel, who raised his face a little, questioning without saying a word. “Just, stay with me tonight, Cas.”

“Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” Castiel wondered, yawning and talking at the same time.

“What?” Dean asked again. “We won’t do anything, Cas. Just sleep,” Dean insisted, pleading like a child.

Castiel looked at him as if he was crazy. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if your parents find us sleeping in the same bed,” he doubted.

“Oh, c’mon Cas, we are grown ass men, and to be honest they would love it,” Dean complained and Castiel chuckled. “Anyway, my room’s key is saved in a hidden place I only know,” he winked teasingly. “I can lock it,” he said raising his eyebrows, a newborn and powerful spirit coming out of him. Castiel smiled at Dean’s cheekiness and raised his head to place a new kiss on Dean’s lips.

“Okay,” he accepted, and they walked together to the room. “We will have to wake up really early in the morning, I have to open the bakery at six,” he said once they were both placed in the single bed. They were a little uncomfortable, they couldn’t deny that, but Dean wouldn’t change the sensation for the world..

“And I have to be at the office at eight,” Dean added, feeling a knot in his stomach. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t want to go. “Don’t worry, Cas, I will take you to work by car,” he added.

“With car you mean the Impala?” Castiel asked, with the last force of the day.

“Of course,” Dean confirmed. “I think it’s time to wake Baby up. She has a lot of work to do.”

Castiel smiled and pecked Dean, falling asleep in record time. Dean placed himself a little better on the bed and before falling asleep as well, he made a promise to himself.

That day had been the first day of the rest of his life.


	7. Pavlova

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian dessert, based on meringue, and named after the famous ballerina Anna Pavlova. Check its recipe [here](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/12126/easy-pavlova/).

“I’m in love,” Dean said to someone over the phone, three days later, seated on the kitchen chair and eating a piece of chocolate cake Castiel gave him for free (after some bickering) the night before. The other end of the line remained mute for a couple of seconds, but Dean didn’t pay attention to it, only caring about how amazing the cake tasted. “I’ve completely abandoned the diet for him, mother of God! Sammy, who would have known?”

“Dean?” Sam answered, sounding confused.

Dean stopped eating (and moaning), and answered that yes, of course, he was Dean.

Sam groaned in response and sighed frustrated. “You were doing really fine, dude, don’t ruin it!”

Dean closed his eyes a little, suspicious of what he was hearing, and said no words for a while, expecting his brother to do it in his place, and explain what the hell he was talking about. When he discovered nothing would be happening, he yelled. “What the hell, Sammy? I’m telling you here that I’m in fucking love and you just...”

“Conversations start with a _‘hello’_ , and probably a _‘how are you?’_ , or some other phrase,” Sam interrupted, and Dean knew what kind of irritating face he was doing at that moment. “You were working really hard at recovering your politeness. I confess I was impressed by how good you were doing, seriously, don’t ruin it.”

“Just because I didn’t fucking say hi?” Dean answered, astonished.

“Yes,” Sam answered, simply, and Dean hoped phones had the feature of making physical contact with the receptors in order for him to slap Sam in that lady hair he had.

Neither of them said a word after that, stubbornly waiting silently for the other one to raise an invisible white flag.

 _“Hello, Sam,”_ Dean answered, half a minute later, in satirical tone.

Sam didn’t notice the tone, or didn’t care about it, since he congratulated Dean for the advance. “Hi to you too, Dean. How are you doing?” he answered in the same way. Dean thought he was a bastard.

“I’m doing really fine,” Dean answered sarcastically. “And I’d like to tell you that I’m eating a chocolate cake the guy I love gave me,” he repeated, and took another bite of cake, waiting for Sam to reply.

“The guy you love?” Sam asked back, clearly amused. “It must be love since you’re eating calories like it is nothing,” he added, and Dean rolled his eyes for that. “When was the last time we talked?” he asked then. “Last Sunday? You were, like, deep in the closet that day, and when I asked this very question you denied it all. Did something happen?”

“Well, basically,” Dean answered, winningly smirking to no one, “last Sunday we hadn’t kissed.”

“And now you apparently have...” Sam added.

“More than once,” Dean answered, victorious. Both guys laughed at the confession, and then the conversation died. Dean coughed nervously, and started talking again. “Look, Sam, I’m keeping my promise here. I’ve told you you’d be the first one I’d tell I was in love when I was ready to say it,” he reminded. “I’m sure now, and I’m telling you. It’s a big deal for me, dude, even when it looks like I’m self-confident and shit… I’m really scared of what is happening to me.”

Dean heard the sound of a chair dragged by the floor. He was sure Sam was sitting and getting comfortable for a long conversation. He sighed in advance.

“What’s going on, Dean?” Sam asked, serious and Dean thanked him for that. Even when it made him slightly uncomfortable, that was what he was needing.

“Well, firstly, as I’ve said, I’m seriously in love with another guy, Sam. I’ve never been in love before, with anyone, it’s a whole new experience for me,” he answered.

“And how are you so sure it’s love if you’ve never experienced it?” Sam asked back.

“Are you playing amateur psychologist with me?” Dean replied nervously, but Sam said nothing. “I know because I know, dude. I have no idea! I…” he paused. “I’ve always liked him I think. He is awesome, Sam, like you know, his features, bodily. He is really fuckable, really! The night after I met him I dreamt he put me on…”

“Too much information, Dean,” Sam stopped him.

“Okay,” Dean answered and felt his face burning strongly. “My point is that I, you know, I’m not interested in having sex with him. I mean, yeah, I’m all for that, every day, in every position you can imagine,” Sam warned him again and Dean ignored him, “but that’s not the whole thing. I want to be there for him after we fuck, and before we fuck. I want to kiss him every night and every morning, and… I dunno, joke together, going to places together, cooking together, bicker and make up again, helping each other out with our problems, all together,” he sighed. “I have no idea if that’s love, Sam, but I suppose it is. You may know better than me,” he finished.

Sam kept silent for a while, increasing Dean’s nervousness. “I can’t believe what I’ve just heard,” he said, “I thought you were exaggerating a little, sorry Dean, but now… you explained how it feels to be in love really well,” he muttered. “Congratulations. To be honest, I’d like to meet him, know who he is, the guy who performed the miracle. He’s this _Cas_ you keep on mentioning every time we chat, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” confirmed Dean, amazed at how transparent he was about the topic. “Do I mention him that much?”

“In every conversation we have, more than once. It’s obvious you were smitten with him, even over the phone. I just didn’t know he was a guy! I’d like seeing your face right now, you may have stars and hearts in your eyes,” he finished, laughing.

“Shut up, I’m not a Disney Princess. You got me, though, I think it’s more transparent face to face. All his employees noticed. Jo too, mom and dad as well…” Dean answered.

“Mom and dad?” Sam asked, sounding surprised. “How in the world can you know that?”

“Oh, that’s another thing I wanted to mentionto you. We are on speaking terms again,” Dean answered with a big smile. “By the way, thank you for doing that, for talking to them. Both you and Cas did, you’re the ones who made Bobby call me, I’m in debt with both—”

“You’re welcome, but… wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted. “Why me and Cas? You lost me here, dude.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Cas knows mom and dad, they are neighbors. And they like one another, plenty, so I have the whole meeting the family aspect of a relationship with him already covered,” Dean answered.

“Wow,” Sam said, and then remained silent. “Do you want to drop another bomb on me or you’re done with that?” he added.

Dean sighed and put the plate and the spoon aside. He had considered telling Sam the whole thing for days, but he was scared of how he would take it, now they were talking again. But after what happened with Castiel that Monday, and all the kisses that came after that, packed with feelings and a mutual but unspoken agreement to keep on working for a relationship, he needed to do this.

“Well, Sam, in fact I do,” Dean confessed. “I need your help with something else...”

“I’m all ears, Dean,” Sam answered without a second of doubt. Dean felt his heart swell. How could had he have been away from his brother for such a long time?

“You remember where I work, don’t you?” he asked, quietly. Sam answered suspiciously that he did. “Well, Cas is Castiel Novak, Zachariah Sandover´s cousin...”

“Oh c’mon Dean!” Sam yelled, but Dean wouldn’t allow Sam to interrupt him on that.

“Wait, Sam, just listen to what I’m saying and trust me. Just this one time, okay?” Dean replied and waited until Sam agreed with him to keep on talking. “Cas has nothing to do with the company. Or yes, but… he doesn’t! He owns a bakery and is the boss of four cool people, that’s it. He doesn’t speak with Zachariah or anyone of his family apart from another cousin named Gabriel, who is not on speaking terms with his family either. Okay?” he asked again and Sam answered yes. “A couple of months ago Zachariah called me to his office and told me they had a special task for me to do, in order to prove my loyalty to Sandover,” he explained and Sam chuckled. “Sam, please,” Dean warned and Sam said nothing. “What I had to do was convince their cousin Castiel to sell his bakery in order for them to build a skyscraper in its place...”

“On dad’s block?” asked Sam, puzzled.

“Yeah, in front of the repair shop, I know, it’s stupid,” Dean answered. “But I didn’t know at first, so I accepted. Then I met Cas, and instead of doing what I was supposed to do, I started falling in love with him, visiting him almost every day, and getting to know him, what he likes and what he doesn’t. He is…” Dean paused, “he is the best person I’ve met in my life, Sam, and I have no idea why he is attracted to me as well, I’m a mess, I’m not good enough,” he paused again. “The last thing I want to do is to hurt him, but I don’t know how to work with all this shit that surrounds us,” he confessed.

“Why don’t you know?” Sam asked. “You just go there and tell Zachariah to fuck off, it’s not so difficult! You’re smart, Dean, you would find a new job wherever you want.”

“Thanks for the words of support but it’s not that simple,” Dean answered, frustrated. “There’s something else, Sam,” he breathed deeply, looking for the right words to say. “There’s a grave family struggle surrounding him. Cas put a restraining order on his family to keep them away from his house, and his store, do you understand?” he asked. “But that was years ago, when he could afford a lawyer, and said lawyer was alive. The guy died and Cas cannot pay for a new one. Zachariah told me once the order expires, if I don’t do my work, they will use the power they’ll then have to force him to file bankruptcy. I’m powerless to help him if that happens, Sam, and Cas is powerless as well...” Dean didn’t mention the fact he would be turned into a junior accountant again, and that didn’t surprise him. He’d made his peace with that already. Sandover was not his priority anymore.

“Let me try to interpret your mumbling… are you suggesting you want me to be his lawyer?” Sam answered, perplexed.

“Only if you want to,” Dean tried timidly. “I know you live in California and that’s a complication. I don’t know how that works—”

“I made the certificate for both states, Dean. I remember telling you that years ago, didn’t I?” Sam answered. “I did it to be available for the family, if you needed me,” he added. “I could assume he is part of my family, then?” he asked, cheekily.

“Oh God, dude,” Dean replied. “If you want me to answer the question, no, he is not part of your family yet, literally. But I—”

Sam laughed, “I’m messing with you, Dean, of course I will help, I won’t wait until you have the guts to tell him to be your boyfriend or marry you or whatever. Do you know I need the two parts to sign the order anyway, don’t you?” Dean agreed. “Castiel knows what you’re trying to do, I suppose,” he added and Dean didn’t respond. “Dean? Are you planning this without telling him? Why don’t you go and fucking consult him?”

Dean felt his ears turning red and hot for the anger. Here it was again, the atmosphere of distrust. “For once, Sam, for fucking once I need you to trust in my judgement, okay? Sometimes it looks like I’m an imbecile to all of you. Yeah, I’ve fucked up really bad a couple times but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fix what I’ve done or that I haven’t learn from my mistakes. Don’t you get it?” Dean answered at last, angered by the way Sam was treating him. “It’s not only about the restraining order, okay? You would already know if you weren’t such a lecturer of what I do or I don’t do… I need you to do something else for me. You would know if you let me talk,” he finished.

“Why are you this angry, Dean?” Sam asked back, in a whisper. “I swear sometimes I try thinking…”

“Sam, please, we were doing really fine up a couple of minutes ago. Let’s not ruin it,” Dean said, paraphrasing Sam earlier in the conversation. “I need you to help me. I’m trying my best to fix my life, and make better decisions, including my relationship with you, because you’re important to me. I’m not perfect, and you’re not perfect either. I say shit once in awhile, yeah, I do, so sorry if I’ve offended you, but please don’t treat me like a child either. The only way we can really make it better is if we both work for it.”

Sam said nothing for a while, but Dean stopped feeling nervous about the implications that had. Fixing their relationship was clearly a process for him, but Dean knew it was something Sam needed to work at it too. “You’re right, sorry, Dean,” he said, finally, in a quieter tone. “It’s just I don’t think you should hide information from your boyfriend,” he added, sounding tired.

“He’s not my boyfriend yet,” Dean replied. “And I won’t hide anything from him. I will go and I will tell him about you, when I consider I have to. And if I don’t tell him as soon as you’d like me to, respect me. Trust me when I say this is what Cas wants to do but thinks he can’t. I still need to tell you something else. Cas told me some stuff about his family, but there’s something he hasn’t and I’ve got the feeling it has to do with this whole Sandover problem, okay?” he started and Sam told him to go on. “Cas has a lot of debts. He is dealing with them as well as he can, but it’s not working as it should. He has red numbers wherever he looks, and it shouldn’t be like that. I’ve seen the bakery’s books, and I’ve seen it work, it has nothing to do with the store’s profits. It’s completely solvent. There must be something else…”

“Something like what?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, I cannot figure it out! He keeps telling me he doesn’t want to tell me cause I will get angry with him. I need you to figure it out for me,” Dean continued. “You’re good at that, and you have the right contacts. Please, can you?”

“Okay, I will,” Sam decided, after some seconds of reticence. “I still think you need to consult him first. You just told me he was the guy you loved. Well… don’t fuck this up.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied, relieved. “I promise I won’t,” he added, seriously.

Sam agreed, and after telling Dean he would call him as soon as he had some information, they parted ways.

Dean checked the clock and it was already time to go to work. He rolled his eyes and took the Impala’s keys, without checking his appearance in the mirror, and drove straight to Sandover’s building. After that Monday, he didn’t use the Prius again, which was a shame, since it was a great car, but Dean had always had a soft spot for his Baby, and after meeting her again he made the decision that nobody would tell him what to do anymore, including which car he chose to drive. Dean didn’t care how pissed off Crowley would be if he found out or how unprofessional he could look driving it.

Dean had even thought about talking to Bobby and selling the Prius, but in truth, Dean wanted to wait a little longer. Something deep down told him he had to keep it for a little longer, and Dean would start acting according to what his heart commanded him to do. No more pressure, no more heartless obligations. It was a decision he had to analyze first, and Dean was pleased with that.

After arriving at the office, though, Becky stopped him at the door. Oh, baby, it’s a cruel world.

“Now what?” he said, tempered.

“Please check the clock, Mister Winchester,” she answered, without separating her eyes from the computer screen. Dean looked at it and read it was indeed three minutes later than his arriving hour. Fuck traffic. “You have to sign this form, please,” she added, handing him a new piece of paper. Dean was starting to get mad about Sandover’s forms and punishments, but signed it up anyway. He was not ready to scream about it yet.

While he was handing the form back to Becky, someone pushed him from behind, and Dean stumbled. He put his hands on the desk in order not to fall and turned to his right to see the attacker, who was still walking to the elevator. He was blonde, with short hair, and was accompanied by another guy with the same features. Both of them were dressed in perfect suits, and laughing with each other, probably at Dean’s expense.

Dean felt how anger was invading his body and before he could help it, he spoke.“Next time you stomp on someone, at least say you’re sorry.”

Both guys, instead of turning .to him, kept on laughing, and Dean was tempted to follow them and turn them around. With a punch, preferably. They called the elevator and waited for it, without looking back at Dean.

It wasn’t until they entered to the elevator that they made face to face contact with him. It was one of the Zachariah’s cousins who was with him in the meeting, Balthazar if Dean was not mistaken, and beside him…

“Bartholomew?!” Dean yelled, completely deranged. A lot of people who came and went looked at him as if he was a freak but he couldn’t care less. Dean ran to the elevator, never losing eye contact with Bartholomew, who was smiling at him with malice as the doors slid shut. “Come here, fucker, don’t be a chickenshit!” he screamed smacking the doors.

“Please, Mister Winchester,” Becky said, appearing beside him and patting him on the back in order to calm him down. “Let’s go back to my desk, please,” she suggested and took Dean by the arm, guiding him to wherever she wanted to. Becky told everybody it was okay, that she had the whole thing covered, and Dean, who up to that point believed she was only the gossip queen of the building, understood he had also been wrong with that judgement.

Becky sit at her desk again, Dean in front of her, and shook her head.

“Look, Mister Winchester, I believe you’re a good person, and a good professional, but you’re drawing some people’s attention here in the company, not in the best way if you follow me. Your present behavior leaves much to be desired, and I think if it keeps being like this it will affect your future career, which would be a pity. How can you be promoted if you act like this?” she asked, and Dean felt tempted to tell her it was not important to him anymore. Although, he remained silent. “I hope you understand that you cannot come and make a scene and insult the most important architect this company has just because he bumped into you.”

“Excuse me?” Dean asked, completely surprised. “Did you just say ‘the most important architect’?” he asked and Becky nodded to him. In Dean’s opinion, Becky was looking at him as though he were an alien. “Why that face? I’ve never seen him around before, how long has he worked here? Two weeks?” he replied, sounding as disgusted as he felt.

“Mister Cubbins has been working here for years, Mister Winchester. I believe the exact amount is six, or seven. He was already working when we were taking our first steps here. You’re the one who is not paying attention,” Becky answered, throwing her facts at Dean.

It was like a rock hit Dean’s head with information he didn’t want to acquire but at the same time he couldn’t ignore. Bartholomew was doing with Castiel exactly the same work Dean was supposed to do. Bartholomew pretended to be interested in Castiel in order to take advantage of him, and Dean couldn’t feel sicker about the implications it hid. Crowley had hinted at it, the other day ( _“your idea is not original, but perhaps you’re luckier than others”_ ). Dean was an imbecile for not realizing earlier. His similarities with Bartholomew were not only random assumptions Dean made, they were factual and literal.

 _‘Dean Winchester, you have always been Sandover’s puppet.’_ Dean thought, and it hurt. 

“If he is an architect, he works on the twentieth floor, doesn’t he?” he asked, desperate for an answer.

“Indeed,” Becky answered, and that was enough for Dean. He went to the elevator and before anyone could stop him, pressed the button to that floor and disappeared behind the door. Dean had no idea what he was about to do, what to say or what part of Bartholomew’s face to hit first. Probably the nose. After all, if Gabriel had punched him for much less, this punch was more than justified.

In those seconds he spent alone in the elevator, Dean imagined a lot of different alternatives to pursue. Although,when the door opened, he saw the floor was full of people, which was a disadvantage for half his ideas. Dean looked at his right and left, reorganizing his thoughts, until he saw a big blueprint. He took it and walked straight to the girl at the closest desk.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he said, acting serene. “I’m looking for Mister Bartholomew Cubbins. I was told he works here, but I’m not familiar where and I need to deliver this plan to h—”

The girl looked at him, curiously. “You don’t you know where his office is?” she interrupted.

Dean blushed but stayed as impassive as possible. “To be honest, honey,” he winked, ”I’m just a newbie here, perhaps you could show me around…” he tried.

The girl’s expression hardened a little at Dean’s ridiculous flirtation and rolled her eyes. “It’s the last door at the left,” she replied, pointing out to the long hall in front of them and returning to her tasks. Dean thanked her even when she didn’t attempt to look at him again and walked, carrying the blueprint as though a sword. Probably it was because he wanted to cut Bartholomew in half with one.

Even when he had the attitude, every step Dean walked scared him more than the previous one. However, Dean had decided he wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt the people he loved, in any way, not anymore, and that he would do his best to solve this mess he was involved in, so he breathed deeply once he was in front of the door and opened it up, not bothering to knock. Bartholomew was there, sit at his desk, signing some papers. Dean closed the door while Bartholomew raised his head and realized who the intruder was.

“What are you doing…?” Bartholomew started saying at the same time he stood up, but Dean gave him no time to act. He stormed straight to where Bartholomew was, throwing the blueprint to the floor, and cornering him in between the wall and his own body.

Bartholomew tried to scream but Dean put a hand on his mouth, muting him.

“I think you’ve talked too much already,” he said. “If you scream I’ll punch you in the middle of your deceitful face. After all, at this point I have nothing to lose here. Are we clear?”

Bartholomew nodded and Dean released his mouth.

“What does a miserable accountant like you want in the office of a reputable architect like me?” he asked, petulantly, as if he wasn’t the one caught in a lie.

“I wouldn’t be so arrogant right now if I were you,” Dean said. “I’m not here because I want to see your fucking face. I just want you to stop messing with Castiel,” Dean answered, pressing Bartholomew even more against the wall. “No more stalking, no more pressuring him over dates that will never happen. You stop walking him to work because he fucking hates that, and every similar alternative you may imagine about your presence in his life vanishes. You just disappear. Pretty simple, isn’t it?”

Bartholomew laughed in response, confusing Dean completely. He arched his head to the wall, and shook it lightly more than once, in a clear sign of amusement.

“If I was more gullible I could think you’re just worried about our professional rivalry, since you’ve just discovered we are going after the same big fish,” he said, and Dean hissed at that statement. He pushed Bartholomew against the wall a little more, without even noticing, which increased the guy’s laugh. “But it looks like it’s different with you,” he continued. “You’re not acting. You’re interested in some other ways,” he said, laughing again. “Who would have thought that? That lunatic, turning you into a fagg—?”

If Bartholomew wanted to say something else, or finish the word, Dean didn’t allow it. He kneed the architect right in the crotch, making him fall to the floor. Dean, feeling somehow successful, bent down as well.

“Don’t ever insult him again,” he said. “That was another point I wanted to make but I forgot. Thanks for making me remember, with that filthy mouth of yours. Have a great day,” he finished and left the office, walking peacefully, taking advantage of the fact that Bartholomew couldn’t move or speak. Dean even took the time to wave at the girl from before. She was not very receptive, but Dean couldn’t care less. She was not particularly helpful for an alibi, but at least he was polite...

Weeks ago Dean discovered he was not able to play an act around Castiel, but he still could right there in Sandover, and according to how imperceptibly he disappeared from the twentieth floor to his office, he was still good at it. Sadly, when the door to his bunker of an office opened three hours later without warning Dean discovered, unsurprised, that his winning streak had a limit that day.

“I suppose you understand, Mister Winchester, you cannot punch co-workers the way you’ve done,” Crowley said, sitting in the chair opposite Dean’s without asking permission.

“I didn’t punch him,” Dean replied. “I kicked him in the crotch, Mr. Crowley.”

“I don’t think how you did it has anything to do with what it will mean to you, Winchester. Don’t push my buttons,” Crowley answered, paying no attention to Dean’s sarcasm. “Sign this,” he added, handing Dean yet another paper.

“Seriously?” Dean asked, tired of the shit Sandover was putting on him. Then he read its title. “Am I suspended?” he added, sounding surprised, even when deep down he knew it was not something so unlike to happen.

“Indeed you are, for this week and the next one,” Crowley said. “You will have time to think about your behavior from the last few weeks, and probably understand we are here watching over your future, giving you a new position to reach in our organization, and I’m sure you won’t be such a fool to waste it on something that doesn’t deserve it.” Dean stopped reading the paper in order to look at Crowley, who smiled at him maliciously. “Don’t be humble, Mister Winchester, I know you’re smart enough to understand what I’m saying,” he added, and Dean felt a knot forming in his stomach. “Don’t think less of my intelligence either, Winchester, I know more than you suppose. But I really believe you won’t miss the opportunity of a better future. Remember this is your first job, and probably your first glimpse of real life… college students like you are just starting in the business, and we are the best ones. You shouldn’t put yourself in a vulnerable position.”

“Are you threatening me?” Dean tried, perplexed.

“All I’m saying is we are your first employer, and the ones that would provide a reference for you to other companies in the future, if you choose to leave us. I wouldn’t play with that,” Crowley answered and took the paper from Dean’s hand violently. He looked at Dean’s signature and folded the warning. “See you in ten days, Mister Winchester. Let’s see what you do with a salary thirty five percent lower.”

“I should probably stop eating sushi rolls this month,” Dean replied sarcastically before his boss closed the door. Crowley didn’t reply.

The moment he was alone, Dean turned the computer off and started gathering some stuff he didn’t want to keep at the office while he was not around. In the middle of the process, Becky called him. Dean doubted if he wanted to pick it up or not but finally did, with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve warned you, Dean,” she lectured him. “Now you’re punished without money and a job to do,” she added.

“How in the fucking world do you know everything?” he said, frustrated. “Crowley is not my father to _punish_ me, Becky,” he added, while stowing his personal items in this satchel, surprised by his own answer. “And money is not the most important thing in the world. There are plenty more satisfactory stuff than that.”

“Whatever you say, Mother Teresa. I’ve called to inform you that you have ten minutes to leave the building, so if I were you I would hurry up,” she answered unconvinced by Dean’s mantra and stopped the conversation.

Dean swore to himself that would be the last time someone would hang up on him in such a manner. At work, at least. He took a couple more pens he didn’t want to abandon and left the office, turning off the lights with his free hand and closing the door without locking it up.

Some people turned around to see him and gossiped with one another while watching Dean, which was terribly uncomfortable for him. Once alone in the elevator he wanted to yell, scream, or break it, but after discovering it had a hidden camera he had never noticed before decided instead to flip it off and make some obscene gestures before leaving. Didn’t they know how old Dean was? Well… they would have a first hand and honest proof of him.

Becky was waiting for him at the elevator’s door. Dean didn’t know if she was acting or being honest, but she looked genuinely concerned about him, contrary to the rest of the people he had crossed before.

“Did you take all the stuff you needed from your office?” she said, taking him by the right arm, and getting closer than Dean felt comfortable with. According to him, the concern was dangerously escalating into sexual harassment. “If you need something else, don’t hesitate to call me, I could bring it to your house, send it to you by mail… whatever you want,” she finished, when both of them were on opposite sides of the front door.

Dean turned to see her, shaking his head.

“It won’t be necessary, Becky, it’s only ten days,” he answered to her, confidently.

Becky had another opinion, though. “Are you sure, Dean?”

And Dean wasn’t. Defeated, he answered nothing and Becky left him alone, in a street full of hurrying people coming and going, with only a satchel in his arms and a question floating in his head. Probably Becky was right. To be honest, Dean was not sure about anything these days. At least anything but his family and Castiel.

He took the Impala’s keys from the satchel and ran to it. He left his jacket in the back seat of the car and rolled up his shirt’s sleeves before turning on the ignition. He turned on the radio as well, and opened the glove box for the first time in years in order to find something to listen to while driving. The sensation of fulfilment that invaded him when he discovered Bobby conserved all his cassettes in their original place was difficult to manage. His heart felt like it was swelling. It was as if Bobby had always thought Dean would return some day to get them back.

“It’s time, dad,” Dean said out loud while checking on the albums he had recovered. “I’ve come back. I’m here. I’m not leaving again.”

He drove all the way to Castiel’s bakery completely mesmerized by the sound of Led Zeppelin. He didn’t remember the last time he stopped working just for a couple of hours and listened to the music he genuinely liked.

 _“It's been a long time since I rock and rolled,”_ Robert Plant answered to him.

There were weeks he completely forgot he had a life apart from the numbers he had to work with and the obligations imposed by a bunch of people that clearly never respected him for who he was.

_“It's been a long time since I did the stroll.”_

But that wouldn’t be happening again, Dean was sure. He had woken up.

_“Oh, let me get it back, let me get it back, let me get it back.”_

He had people who loved him and were worried about him, Dean wouldn’t allow a new estrangement because of work or whatever that was separating him from them.

_“It'd been a long, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.”_

“Yes, it had,” Dean sang. “But not anymore,” he added.

He left the car in a rush after parking it in his, now, usual spot. He ran to the door without looking at his parent’s shop. He didn’t want to be rude, but nobody called his name from there and Dean was in a hurry. He would decidedly visit them later.

He looked at Castiel, who was behind the counter, collecting the money a customer was giving to him, and went straight to his side. He didn’t think about how impetuous that was, crossing behind the counter as if he was part of the staff, as if he was allowed to do that, until Castiel looked at him surprised by his action. He didn’t say anything negative to him, though, but smiled energetically, as though having him at that side of the counter was something common or somehow desired by him.

“What are you doing here at this time of the afternoon?” he asked, giving the change to his client, but never taking his eyes off of Dean. The staring contest started early that day, and Dean couldn’t be more pleased about it.

“I need to talk to you, Cas,” Dean said, in a heartbeat. “Privately,” he cleared up then, and looked at Charlie, who was in turn staring at them completely interested by every move they made. Dean made her a gesture to come closer, and she complied. “Can you take care of the customers for a while? I need a moment with Cas,” he said.

Charlie winked at him, “I got it covered, cowboy,” she replied, jokingly and patting them both on their backs.

“What?” answered Dean, confused, until he saw Castiel walking to the office room laughing and he got it. “Oh, c’mon Charlie, I didn’t mean it like that, I’ve said I need to talk to him,” he answered and walked behind him, hearing Charlie’s chuckles in the background.

Castiel opened the office door and turned on the lights, ushering Dean inside and closing the door behind them. Castiel didn’t bother sitting and stayed as close to Dean as possible. Personal space be damned, Dean couldn’t care less about it.

“I like this look on you,” Castiel started, taking Dean’s shirt and playing with its fabric. It didn’t intend to be seductive, but hell if it wasn’t. “Your collar sloppy, your tie loose, your sleeves rolled up…” he explained, and Dean suddenly forgot why he was there in the first place. “If you were a cowboy as Charlie said, you would be a stunning one, Dean,” Castiel concluded, and Dean couldn’t take the teasing anymore. He took Castiel by the apron and closed the distance between them, guiding their lips together.

Every kiss with Castiel was different, according to Dean. After three days of practising with him every time they could, they got to know each other a little better, not only spiritually but also physically. Dean had started to learn Castiel’s body language, and he was drunk on it. He discovered Castiel moaned louder if he touched his neck while making out, so he tried trailing his fingers along Castiel’s nape as many times as he could. Castiel probably discovered Dean’s preferences as well, since he fisted his hand in Dean’s hair, tugging firmly and pressing them together, increasing their proximity, just the way he liked it. Dean could sense their hips playing a dangerous friction game together.

“Cas, Cas,” he said before it was too late, breaking the kiss. Castiel opened his eyes and released a deep breath with his nose, the warm air caressing Dean’s face. Dean touched their foreheads together, and Castiel responded by putting both of his hands on each side of Dean’s face. Dean loved how Castiel understood him without words, and he was always receptive and endearing, even when he stopped something he clearly wanted to do. “I need to tell you something, for real,” he said, in between gasps.

“What happened?” Castiel asked, losing his smile and looking suddenly worried. His hand didn’t move an inch from Dean’s face, though. Dean appreciated it.

“Nothing, just… Crowley suspended me for contempt and violence against a co-worker?” Dean said, doubtfully and in a quiet tone. Castiel frowned his eyebrows and made an attempt to move his hands, by the commotion Dean’s comment caused him. However, Dean didn’t allow him. “Hey, don’t worry, it’s not that bad,” he said, believing it.

“How can’t it be _that bad_ , Dean, you could lose your job for something like that!” Castiel said, in the same tone Dean used but more severely. Dean was not prepared yet to tell him he didn’t care anymore, so he stayed silent. “By any chance, was it for me?” Castiel asked then, sounding guilty and embarrassed. He tried again to separate his hands from Dean’s face but Dean stayed firm.

“It was not for you,” he answered, finally. “It was _for you_ and _for me_ , Cas, because I won’t allow anyone to treat you like shit or fool you in any way anymore, and I won’t allow them to use me for that kind of job, either.”

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Castiel asked, visibly puzzled. Dean caressed his face, in an effort to make it all look less serious than it was, and Castiel reacted closing his eyes.

“Today I discovered Bartholomew has worked all this time at Sandover, you know?” Dean confessed, and saw Castiel’s eyes opening again, in absolute surprise. He muttered a weak “what?” that Dean answered immediately. “Yeah, I know, I lost my shit when I realized. I just… I couldn’t help it, Cas. I went all the way to his floor, then to his office and, well, I kneed him in the balls. Literally.” Castiel chuckled in between his worries and apprehension and Dean couldn’t believe even with that mixture of feelings portrayed in his face he could look so beautiful. “I told him not to come back here, ever again, and to stop insulting and stalking you… Maybe now he’ll back off,” he finished and chuckled as well, minimizing the implications his action could have.

“So,” Castiel asked, sounding hurt, “all this time Zachariah put that guy in my way to what? To seduce me? Because he thinks since I’m a homosexual man I will fall blindly for whatever man they put in front of me?” he sounded frustrated and Dean could understand why. After all, it was yet another offence, yet another assault.

“The other day Crowley asked me what my course of action was,” Dean replied, something clicking in his head. “In regards of my job with you, you know? He asked me why I was spending so much time here… I didn’t understand how he knew at that moment, now I do,” he chuckled and Castiel ran a gentle hand through his hair. “To escape, I told him I was playing the friends card with you, I felt so shitty about that. I still do. I tried to fool myself all this time, thinking I was not like Bartholomew, that it was just a thing in my manners and I could be better... and we’re practically the same. I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey,” Castiel said and took Dean’s head with both of his hands again. It was tender, it made Dean feel at home. “Hey,” he repeated and Dean opened the eyes he didn’t remember closing. “Don’t say that ever again. You’re different than him.”

“I’m not, I’ve said—”

“Are you coming here for the same reasons Bartholomew did?” Castiel interrupted, seriously. Dean shook his head, quietly. “Do you spend time with me here because you want to entrap me?” he asked and Dean denied it again. “Then you’re different. Stop blaming yourself for things you cannot change. You won’t make my cousin better, you won’t make Bartholomew better. But _you_ are better than them,” he finished and closed the distance, touching their foreheads. They stayed like that for a while, both with their eyes closed, until Castiel broke the silence again, with a whisper. “Why would you do that, Dean, after all? Hitting a guy to protect my honor,” he said, sounding sincerely moved.

 _‘Because I think I love you,’_ Dean wanted to say, simply, but instead closed completely the distance and kissed him, trying to explain the confession he still couldn’t verbalize in a similar way. Castiel responded to his advances in a second, making Dean’s heart beat wildly, and they stayed that way, making out like teenagers, breathing and smiling together, until the knock on the door woke them up from their dream.

“The door is closed, we’re busy at the moment,” Castiel said, panting irregularly. He looked really hot, with his lips swollen and his hair all tousled. Dean thought it was amazing that he was the one making him look that way.

“Yeah, uncle, I imagine,” Claire said behind the door, in a tone that shown she was not as clueless as Castiel thought. “I just wanted to tell you I’m not feeling really well. I think I need to go home,” she added and before Castiel could interrupt, she spoke again. “It’s just that my throat hurts a lot, uncle, I think I have a cold. I need to rest today, I will come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel answered. “Take an Ibuprofen for the pain,” he replied.

“I will,” Claire answered, amused. “See you later, uncle. Bye to you too, Dean,” she added, moving away and leaving them alone again.

Castiel stopped looking at the door and turned to Dean. His eyes were so blue…

“What you will do now?” he asked again in a concerned tone, sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall. Dean sat as well, facing him.

“Don’t be so worried, Cas, please, I’m not worried,” Dean answered and hugged him to prove the point. Castiel responded, and Dean felt awesome. “I’m fine, I mean, apart from my normal self-blaming attitudes I’m feeling great. I listened to Led Zeppelin in the car while driving here, and I confess it was a revelation. I want to live for me again, and when the suspension is over… we will see. For a while I will do as I please. I will only use my time to make things I want to do,” he finished, surprised by his own easiness.

“Like what?” Castiel pushed then, timidly.

“Like going to Bobby’s garage to talk to him and mom so we can catch up and mend our relationship, calling Sam daily to see how he’s doing, listening to rock music, spending my free time at my favorite bakery pestering my favorite baker…” Dean enumerated, flirtatiously and both guys smiled at that.

“Am I your favorite baker?” Castiel asked, chuckling. Dean nodded and Castiel tugged Dean’s head to rest against his chest, hugging him. Probably, showing affection instead of talking was a characteristic of them both. “How have we come this far, you and me?” Castiel asked and Dean wasn’t sure what to answer so he preferred keeping silent and hugging Castiel tighter than before.

Dean had no idea how much time they stayed like that, until his left leg started showing some signs of numbness. He made some movements in order to break the hug and then called Castiel’s name a couple times, but the baker didn’t move or respond to Dean’s calls.

“Hey, babe, my leg is as fucking asleep, as you apparently are as well, let me move it,” he said but Castiel gave no signs of listening to him at all, which at some point Dean was grateful about since he had no idea where that _babe_ came from. Bloody mouth with a mind of its own.

He raised the head in order to see if Castiel had fallen asleep for real (and laugh a little at his expense) but he was in cloud nine, with his eyes open, staring seemingly unseeing at the wall.

“I have an idea,” Castiel said, completely out of nowhere, after Dean called his name two or three times more. Castiel turned to Dean, kissed him on the mouth and released him without telling him a word of what he was thinking. “A really good idea, if you ask me,” he added.

“I’m asking,” Dean answered, while massaging his leg and trying to wake it up.

“Okay,” Castiel answered, completely clueless of Dean’s pain. “Since Claire is not working today, and probably if she feels bad she won’t come back tomorrow, what if you work here in her place?” he said and Dean thought he had misheard for a moment but then Castiel started talking again. “I’m not asking you to wait on customers at the tables or anything, Charlie is completely prepared to do that, but you can help me at the counter, and play with numbers as you like to do, and eat too because you like to eat even when you say you don’t,” he paused and closed the distance between them again. “I could even teach you how to bake an apple pie,” he added with such a smile that Dean found himself breathless. “What do you think?”

And Dean thought a lot of different things about that. Things that made him feel butterflies in his stomach, things that made him happy, things that scared him. But, once again, Robert Plant explained it way better than he could ever do.

_“Carry me back, carry me back, carry me back, baby, where I come from.”_

“I accept,” Dean said, and if he wasn’t happy already for the decision he’d taken, Castiel’s smile when he heard Dean’s answer did.

Those days turned out to be the happiest days Dean had ever had. The bakery staff accepted his help easily, and Dean found himself being helped more than once by them in exchange. Gabriel appeared once in a while and exchanged curious glances with Dean, and he was sure the moment to speak with him seriously would come soon. Customers were a whole other thing; they received Dean with joy, asking for his opinions about what product they should buy, or if he was planning to stay. Dean wished he could.

“If you had to buy a cake for Castiel, for instance, what would you buy him?” a policewoman asked him one day.

“I think you’re confusing your case with mine, Donna; Cas is not my husband. You’re buying a pie for yours,” Dean answered, checking if Castiel was listening or not. Donna smirked at his answer and repeated her question, and Dean had no other chance but replying. “I would buy him a blueberry pie, he loves blueberries.”

Donna took Dean’s suggestion with a smile and before leaving she told him only someone with serious interests in someone else would know their favorite fruit. Unfortunately at that moment Charlie was beside him and Dean couldn’t escape her meaningful glances for the rest of the day.

Each night, after closing the bakery, Dean always by Castiel’s side, they’d have a light dinner together, or simply walk for hours talking, sharing anecdotes and moments in each other’s company. Most of the days, though, they were invited by Bobby or Ellen to share a meal with them at the family house, and Dean couldn’t believe how such simple pursuits could make him feel so complete.

He would love seeing Sam at one of those dinners, and he told him so a couple of times, when he had the chance, during many of the long conversations they maintained at night once Dean was again at home, and Sam always answered him that they would surely have the opportunity soon. Dean prayed for that to be true.

When he woke up again each day at five in the morning to have a bath and dress in casual clothes to return to the bakery, he did it with an ease he didn’t remember feeling in his days at Sandover. He was in good company, completely relaxed, helping a great group of people to keep a profitable business working, while fixing his not-so-broken-now relationship with his family and somehow dating (even when they never talked about it officially yet) the most gorgeous human being he had ever met.

Dean couldn’t complain. And what was more, Dean was convinced he would never waste that opportunity life was giving him with useless complaints, not ever again.

This was reinforced when Sam called him, almost at the end of those idyllic days, in the middle of a cooking class Benny was giving him, with the news he wanted to hear the most. Dean asked him please to call him later, when Benny finished his lessons, but Sam insisted, in a serious tone, and Dean couldn’t say no.

He excused himself from both Benny and Castiel, telling them Sam wanted to talk with him and Bobby about something important, and left the store, walking to the repair shop.

“Are you in a place where your boyfriend cannot hear you?” Sam asked, never abandoning his serious tone. Dean was starting to be really scared about it.

“Oh, c’mon Sam, he is not my fucking boyfriend yet. And what will you tell me anyway? That he killed Mufasa? That he sank the Titanic?” Dean said, making big gestures with his arms, and noticing Bobby was looking at him from the back of a car with a curious face. “It’s nothing, dad, it’s just Sam being an asshole…” he said and kept on walking. Dean preferred privacy so he entered Bobby’s office and closed the door.

“Thanks for the lovely words, jerk,” Sam answered, faking indignation. Dean was already sitting at his father’s desk. “I’m just fucking helping you here, dude, give me a break,” he added and Dean rolled his eyes. “By the way, if anything, your boyfriend is nothing but an angel, or Casper the friendly ghost...”

“How many times do I have to tell you he is not my boyf—?” Dean started.

“Please Dean, don’t ever let that guy go,” Sam interrupted, seriously again. “I’m talking for real, Dean, he… he acts without thinking but he is amazing,” he added and Dean knew they were at the same page.

“I already know that, Sam,” Dean answered, somehow relieved. “But I’m glad you know that now as well, it’s like you’re giving me your seal of approval, it’s nice,” he finished with a smile.

“This is really what I’m doing, congratulations, Dean, but now pay me attention,” Sam answered, and Dean complied. “I have the document prepared with the information you gave me, names and stuff. If I ship it to you via Fedex, it would arrive in a couple of days. Although, I’m always wary about airmail. I think when it comes to important documents we should take more secure measures. We don’t want it to get lost in the middle from California to Kansas,” Sam explained.

“Oh God, don’t even mention that, Sam, I wouldn’t be able to make it work at Sandover if that happened. I need to solve this mess now, the current restraining order expires next week,” Dean answered, worried.

“Dean, can you just please stop?” Sam asked, tone brokering no disagreement. Dean stopped talking, allowing Sam to keep on explaining. “I don’t want that either, that’s why Sarah and I have come to a decision.” This is where Dean started feeling confused. What did Sarah had to do with anything? “If we take a plane to Kansas and seize the moment to come and visit you all, we would be taking a flight by midnight and be there by lunchtime, and I could meet my client, which would be a real advantage for me,” he finished, and Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Are you and your girlfriend coming? For real?” Dean asked and felt how a couple of tears escaped his eyes. “Can I tell dad? Here’s right there, over a car—?”

“No, please no. I want it to be a surprise,” Sam confirmed. “But we are not talking about me here, Dean, I didn’t call you for that. Pay attention to what I will say, because I suppose you will lose your shit,” he started again, and Dean dried his wet eyes with his free hand in order to have his full attention on his brother. “You know how your boyfriend got the bakery, don’t you?” he started and Dean agreed with Sam. “When his grandmother died, and she left him the bakery, as you know, your boyfriend accepted his obligation, and according to what my contacts told me, he is doing a great job with that,” Sam added.

“A really great job, Sam, you have no idea,” Dean started but Sam took the lead again.

“Yeah, I know, Romeo, that’s not the point,” Sam continued and Dean blushed. “The point is Castiel has a lot of family still living, and most of them are parasites. The biggest one being Zachariah, because as I’ve told you more than once, even before this, he believes he is better than the rest of us because he has money.” Dean couldn’t disagree with that statement anymore so he said nothing. “Obviously Anna was also of the same opinion, I suppose, and left him nothing but debts to pay, I suppose as a lesson for how he was with her while she was alive, I have no way to know that,” he paused and Dean stayed silent, unsure that if he added up something he would commit a mistake. “That’s not the point either. The guy paid them cause Castiel’s former lawyer obliged him to, but there’s something else I’ve just discovered today. There was another part in the last testament that the lawyer only communicated to Zachariah, because she asked specifically for that to happen. She was a benefactor for both a Children’s Hospital and an Animal Shelter in Kansas, and she asked Zachariah specifically to keep on giving both organizations their usual fees monthly. Listen to this: with Castiel’s share of the company,” Sam pointed out, carefully. “Dean, are you listening to me? Castiel has shares—”

“I know that, Sam, he told me,” Dean interrupted, his mind wandering through different possible scenarios. It couldn’t be. They wouldn’t be that dreadful.

“Wow,” Sam replied, and kept quiet. “Well… Anna asked Zachariah to use Castiel’s share for something Castiel would appreciate, since Castiel didn’t reclaim his part for whatever reason I don’t know, and probably you do. Zachariah signed documents from the attorney committing himself to do it. In the will Anna asked him specially to do that task to _‘make her proud’_ , literally, ‘because he didn’t while she was alive.’”

“That’s a really poetic way to fuck him up,” Dean commented, with a nervous chuckle, waiting for what Sam would say next. Somehow Dean thought if he had met Anna, he would get on well with her.

“Yeah, it’s poetic, but I wouldn’t laugh so much,” Sam answered. “According to the information I have here, Zachariah only paid those fees for half a year, only as a façade for Doctor Devereaux, because he was really pushy and insistent. But after the attorney died, he stopped, and the debts with both organizations started to grow exponentially. I know it’s not technically a debt per-se, but he committed to do it in Castiel’s name, and when he stopped, the organizations contacted Sandover to know what happened. They were ignored and then contacted Castiel.”

“Oh Jesus,” Dean answered, realizing what would be said next.

“Your boyfriend clued in after that, and since he is apparently the most selfless human being that has walked the Earth, he started paying both fees with his own money. because he thought it was his responsibility. I mean, instead of using his money from the company he went and used the money he didn’t have! It’s crazy!! The organizations wanted him to stop worrying, told him they only wanted to let him know about the situation... they even told me they tried to refuse his help more than once, but your guy is stubborn as much as selfless, apparently, and replied every time that he could do it. At first he did, because he had saved profits from the bakery, but after that things started to get rocky for him. He started paying a little here and there. Some to his wholesalers, some to taxes, some to the organizations… it escalated out of control, and now all Castiel’s debts equal to more than a hundred thousand dollars, which is more or less what Sandover hasn’t sent to the organizations all these months ago,” Sam declared.

“Fuck” Dean answered, with his free hand in his face, breathing irregularly. He repeated the phrase a couple times until Sam stopped him.

“Yes, I know. I’ve called directly to the Hospital and the Shelter, they wouldn’t lie to me,” he said. “Their legal representatives, they made him a patron in both places, and they told me amazing stuff about him, Dean, apart from his poor decisions... Don’t lose that guy,” he repeated.

“I won’t, these days I’ve spent with him full time I’ve realized I couldn’t live without him anymore, Sam, I just…” he replied and let the rest of the sentence die in him.

“It’s good to hear you say this, Dean, but save it for him instead of your brother, don’t waste a confession on me,” Sam answered, amusingly touched. When he realized Dean was more touched than he had imagined, Sam tried to comfort him.

“You have no idea Sam, I’ve been a dick with him, about a lot of stuff but particularly about the debts,” Dean confessed in between sobs. “I’ve indirectly told him he was a liar who faked his countable books, that I suspected he was a gambler…” Sam groaned at that particular part but Dean kept on talking. “I’ve pushed him for information to the point of being insufferable, even when he shared a lot with me. He always denied it, he told me more than once he didn’t want me to get angry… he is absolutely amazing in comparison to me. I don’t deserve him,” he declared.

“Don’t start with that shit, Dean,” Sam lectured. “You’re not the King of Hell for God’s sake, you’re a human being who committed mistakes just like everybody else does. Don’t blame yourself too much. Castiel may be predisposed to be in trouble, which includes you, but he is not doing as bad as you may think he is. Yeah, he has debts with a lot of people and the local government, but he is making animals happy and he is helping to cure children at the same time. It’s stupid for his financial situation, I know, but it’s especially remarkable at the same time,” he concluded and Dean agreed. “And as far as you are concerned,” Sam added, “I think he is fixing you in an almost supernatural way,” he said and Dean chuckled at how ridiculous it sounded. “I’m telling you this seriously; you have no idea how much you’ve changed since the last time we talked before our rift, all those months ago,” he continued and Dean felt a knot in his throat. He didn’t want to keep on crying, though. “Every time we talk over the phone you’ve improved a little more for the better, Dean. This guy I’m talking to right now is the closest to the brother I used to know that I’ve talked in years. That guy, he really performs miracles.”

“I think I need to work a little more on my manners,” Dean confessed, embarrassed. “Sometimes I don’t realized how rude I’ve been until after I’ve said it. I don’t want to be like that.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” he said. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. I didn’t mean that when I said that, though. You’re different than the brother I used to know because now you’ve matured, and you’re in love. You have no idea how much love changes you until you experience it.”

“It cured me,” Dean concluded. “Oh God, I sound like Celine Dion…” he finished, chuckling.

“It surely did,” Sam agreed, and they kept in silence for a while. “We will be arriving in Kansas this Sunday afternoon, we have the tickets here. Go to your guy and tell him how much you love him, that I need to meet him as your official boyfriend.”

“I won’t tell him that I love him until I’ve finished all this mess,” Dean replied.

“Then think of a plan of action in the meantime. We will need it,” Sam answered before saying goodbye, leaving Dean sitting in the chair with a explosion of information and feelings in his heart.

Dean heard someone knocking on the door and told them to come in. Ellen appeared with a timid smile and a small tray with two cups of coffee on it. “Your father told me you were here, fighting with Sam again?” she asked and took his son by the hand.

Dean shook his head. “I was not fighting with Sam mom, I promise,” he answered. “Those days are in the past, so don’t worry. If we have a disagreement, we talk about it, like adult people,” he added and Ellen smile intensified, relaxing her features. “He just told me something that knocked me out.”

“Is everything right, love?” she asked, worried.

“More than right,” Dean confessed. “It’s just I’m dealing with the fact that I have the chance to be brave enough to save the person who saved me, and that scares me.”

“Every important step in our lives scares us,” Ellen replied, in that motherly tone he had missed when they were not in contact. “We only need to identify when our happiness is in danger if we don’t move,” she said and Dean nodded. “What will you do this time, honey?”

“I will be happy, mom.”


	8. Chocolate Ganache Tart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its name says it all, and it's directly related to this chapter. The tart is delicious, by the way. Check the recipe [here](http://tenplay.com.au/channel-ten/masterchef/recipes/chocolate-ganache-tart).

“Brother, this is a real complex process, you were the one asking me to teach you how to bake a cake that is laborious. It’s a chocolate ganache tart, not a cake mix, so be patient,” Benny said after Dean seethed for the millionth time since their cooking lesson had started.

“Don’t say _cake mix_ with that tone as if it’s horrid,” Dean answered him, placing himself beside Benny with a pen in his hand and a notebook that was full of scratches. “I like that Pillsbury one with the little confetti in it,” he confessed, making gestures with his free hand. Benny laughed and Dean, outraged by his lack of respect, rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand your reaction.”

“I never thought someone would buy that and like it. It’s called Funfetti, for the love of God,” Benny answered in between guffaws, while tossing the mixture in the bowl.

“What can I say? I’m a simple man,” Dean counterattacked, leaving the notebook and the pen aside and taking the chocolate bar, tasting a bit of it.

Benny laughed again. “You? A simple man?” he said. “Since when? Yesterday?” Dean felt somehow insulted by that comment, and it apparently translated to his face, since Benny quickly backed down. “Hey, brother, take it easy, it was just a joke. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s just I’m working my ass off enough for you to at least recognize that I’m doing better than weeks ago, but it looks like nothing is enough for you,” he replied, pissed off.

Benny left the bowl at the counter and looked at Dean, with a serious expression. “I’ve noticed, Winchester. Sorry, I know you’re trying really hard. I’m just messing with you, because you work up easily and it’s funny to see.”

“It can be funny for you, but it’s not for me,” Dean answered, stubbornly and Benny kept on working on the recipe without saying another word, except for the instructions he wanted Dean to note down. At some point, while rolling the dough out and pressing it into the tart pan, Dean talked again. “You know why I’m doing this, don’t you?” he asked, with a shy tone.

“Taking into account this is Castiel’s favorite dessert, I may have an idea,” Benny answered, confidently. “You have to grease the pan with a little bit of butter first if you don’t want the dough to stick on it and ruin the whole recipe, note that down,” he added changing the topic completely and Dean complied.

“Aren’t you...” Dean doubted. “Aren’t you mad at me because I’m doing this?” he asked.

“Doing what?” Benny asked, puzzled.

“I don’t know… popping up in your bakery the way I did, being here basically all the time, invading your workspace and bothering you with questions everyday…” Dean explained, blushing profusely.

“Oh, Dean,” Benny answered, frustrated. “It’s obvious we didn’t have a good opinion of you at first. You were a pain in the ass, brother. A literal wretched guy who came here to cause Castiel pain and leave us without a job,” Dean wanted to interrupt him but Benny didn’t allow it. “You were a real show-off, who mistreated Claire, and had no idea how much passion and effort we all put into this business. But then something happened between you and Castiel, and you started changing progressively, and somehow gaining our respect. You became more relaxed and kinder, and I won’t lie, you’re making Castiel happier than we’d ever seen him. I won’t be like Charlie who doesn’t push you but wants you to tell her how you feel, cause she loves seeing the people she cares about happy... but I know there’s something going on with you and my boss. I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t be involved with someone who is a shitty person, so I will trust in his judgement.”

Benny started pressing his fingers over the dough and the pan, giving the tart its future form, and said nothing else. Dean took the notebook again and noted that procedure down, biting his lip, as if he was holding himself back from saying something further. When Benny took the fork to prick the dough, Dean couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“I’m in love with Cas,” he said quietly and Benny turned to look at him, without interrupting his actions.

“As I’ve imagined,” he said. “We all have, to be honest. Charlie, Kevin, Claire… we’ve talked about it a couple times. Gabriel, even! He pretends you’re invisible but he is not that stubborn to deny there’s something going on in between you and Castiel. And if that’s what you’re waiting for, kiddo, we approve. That means, we approve as long as you don’t break his heart…”

“I won’t break his heart,” Dean interrupted, confidently.

“Perfect, then,” Benny replied and kept on working. He walked to the fridge carrying the pan and placing it inside. He took the cream and placed it with the rest of the ingredients. “We will start the filling now, alright?”

“Yes,” Dean replied, sounding concerned.

“What happened now, brother? I’ve told you we give our blessing to date Castiel…”

“He’s not my boyfriend yet, I’ve not asked him.”

“Do you just want to fool around with him?” Benny asked and Dean shook his head. “So what are you waiting for?” Benny added, taking a saucepan and putting cream and sugar on it. “Prepare the microwave as I’ve told you,” he instructed his friend and Dean did as he was told.

“I need to talk to you,” he replied, taking the bowl from Benny’s hands and placing it in the microwave. He pressed the correct buttons and started the heating process. “And before you say something, I’m not talking to you like I’m waiting for your permission to date Cas, or whatever. I’m talking about something else. I need to have a conversation with you and the rest of the staff in a moment Cas doesn’t know,” Dean cleared up.

“Why?” Benny asked, curiously, then added, mockingly, “are your intentions with my friend that serious, boy? Do you want to marry him already? Break up the chocolate bar.”

Dean rolled his eyes while doing it. “No, or yeah, my intentions are serious but,” he stopped talking to focus his attention on a bit that was difficult to break. He smiled when he could do it. “I need you to give me a hand with something, but I don’t want Cas to know.”

“Love confession?” Benny tried, jokingly.

“Oh, God, no!” Dean replied, completely focused on a new piece of chocolate.

“What, then?” Benny tried again.

“I won’t tell you alone, I don’t want to repeat the same shit four times!” Dean replied, irritated, taking a new bowl and placing the chocolate pieces there. The microwave rang and Dean changed one bowl from the other one, without looking at Benny.

“Brother, your manners…” the baker replied.

“I know, sorry, you drive me crazy with questions and I’m nervous,” Dean recognized, looking at him again. “I really need to ask you for help, and I need to ask you _now_ , today I mean, it has to be today. I want to get rid of this problem as soon as possible,” Dean added.

“What problem?” Benny asked, confused by Dean’s secretiveness.

“This… this whole thing,” Dean said, making a gesture with his arms, encompassing the kitchen. “I seriously don’t want to explain it more than once, Benny, I want to save time and get everyone together to brainstorm, I…” he breathed. “I need Cas out of the bakery for a while today. I need an excuse.”

“Tell your parents to ask him to go to the garage, he would,” Benny said, simply.

“I cannot tell my parents,” Dean replied.

“Oh God, are you this mysterious all the time? This is how you won Castiel’s heart?” Benny complained to Dean, taking the second bowl from the microwave and mixing both contents all together in a new one. “You have to mix the cream and the chocolate now, pouring slowly until it’s melted completely. See?” Benny explained, showing the movement Dean had to memorize. Benny kept on working for a couple of minutes and when the result was satisfactory, he left the bowl on the counter. “Do me a favor, put the tart in the oven, medium temperature, and listen to what I say,” he winked at Dean and went to the kitchen’s door, opening it. “Castiel! I need your help here, please! Can you come?” Benny entered the kitchen again and hid the bowl with the chocolate filling.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, surprised.

“I’m teaching you how to do a ganache for him, do you want him to know?” Benny answered quietly and looked at his friend with a face that gave him no place to second guess.

Castiel entered the kitchen, then, cleaning up his hands with the apron and looking worried. It was stupid of him, but Dean hated that look on his face and wanted to kiss it off. Bad thing was they had never kissed in public before.

“Did something happen, Benny?” he asked in a serious tone and then he saw Dean was in the room as well. It was magical, but at the moment their eyes met, Castiel smiled in such a way that made Dean’s heart constrict. “Hello, Dean,” he said enchanted by Dean’s presence and Dean couldn’t react in a different way when he greeted him back. “Is Benny still teaching you?” he asked then, completely interested in what Dean would say.

“Yes, he is a good coach,” Dean replied, observing Castiel was closing the distance between them, as if Benny wasn’t there. Instead of backing down like he was used to doing when they were in company, he received Castiel and put his arm around Castiel’s waist, embracing him. Castiel replied in silence, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and staying quiet for a while. Castiel released a deep sigh and Dean relaxed, increasing the pressure on the embrace.

“Hey, lovebirds, you might have forgotten, but I’m still here,” Benny said, singing the last word. Both guys woke up from the spell, embarrassed. Although, neither of them made the attempt to move apart. “I was the one asking for you to pay me attention, however now you’re ignoring me. It hurts,” Benny continued, while cleaning the counter with a wet dish towel. Since Castiel didn’t say a thing to him except for chuckles in between him and Dean, Benny rolled his eyes and kept on talking. “I need you to lend me a hand and pick up Noah and Isabella from school.”

“What? And the bakery?” Castiel asked suddenly worried by the task he was asked to do.

“The kids can make it without you for half an hour, Superman,” Benny replied. “I’m here as well as Dean if they need help, we will do it. I’m asking you because Andrea is queasy in bed, so she can’t use the car, and we are in the middle of some bakes that require our attention, aren’t we, Dean?” Dean looked at Benny confused and tensed by the inclusion but agreed with him anyway. “My kids like you, brother, you’re like the crazy aunt they love sharing moments with.”

“I’m not their _aunt_ , I have no blood relationship with your offspring,” Castiel replied clueless and Dean had no other choice but to laugh at that. Benny joined him and Castiel frowned, his brows furrowing. “What?” he asked, somehow pissed by their reactions. Dean stopped laughing and hugged him.

“It’s just your boyfriend here got the joke the first time he heard it and you’re still clueless about it, after years of hearing it. You kill me, brother,” Benny answered, still laughing. Neither of them denied the boyfriend word this time, and Dean felt extremely glad about it.

“I came here walking, I have no car to pick them up,” insisted Castiel.

“Use mine,” Dean said, surprising even himself with the offer. In his teenage days he didn’t let anyone drive it, not even Sam or Bobby. But it looked like now he was correcting not only his contemporary defects but also his former ones, everything in the name of love. Bono would be really proud of him.

“Your Impala?” Castiel asked back, astonished since Dean had shared with him an anecdote or two about his relationship with the car. “Are you sure?” he asked again, breaking the hug and looking at Dean in the eyes. Before the staring became more intense than it already was, Dean nodded sincerely and took the keys of the car out of his pocket, showing them to Castiel. The bakery owner surprised Dean with a grateful kiss to the mouth, which meant more than an expression of gratitude for lending him the car. Dean didn’t care it was in front of Benny.

Castiel released Dean before he could return his show of affection more properly and accepted the keys like a kid would accept candies. He kissed Dean again quickly and walked to the door.

“Do you want me to pickup the kids and bring them here or to your house?” Castiel asked, with a renewed energy Dean felt a little responsible for.

Benny looked at Dean and Dean shrugged his shoulders.

“Take them to my house, if you can. They will call me if Andrea is getting worse or something,” Benny replied and Dean somehow admired his ability to lie without moving a muscle.

“Perfect,” Castiel decided, without a problem and left the room. He called at Charlie he would be coming back in a while and disappeared outside.

Charlie entered the kitchen with a curious expression on her face and Benny started laughing cockily, making Dean blush even more.

“Mr. Darcy here wanted Elizabeth out of the store for a while because he wants to tell us something, so I gave him an excuse,” Benny explained and Charlie’s incredulous expression didn’t change. “Please tell the kids to come here while I phone Andrea. We will have a little council.”

“Like the Rivendell one?” Charlie joked and Benny groaned, not answering. Dean didn’t know Charlie was a Tolkien fan, and that alone increased his respect for her.

The baker called his wife and exchanged some hilarious dialogues with her ( _“Castiel’s boyfriend wanted him out of the store and I needed an alibi, honey. Yeah, exactly, Dean,”_ in between some other gems) while Charlie gathered the rest of the staff inside the kitchen.

“What will we do with the customers, Dean? Couldn’t you do this another time?” Claire asked looking irritated. Kevin walked behind her with a similar expression.

“I don’t know, Taylor Swift,” Dean answered. “Stay at the door and pay attention to both flanks, I cannot do this another time, it’s already five in the afternoon.”

“Okay, okay,” she said rolling her eyes and leaning against the doorjamb. She looked once in a while to the main room to check the tables and see if someone was waiting at the counter. Charlie and Kevin stayed together besides the fridge and they all waited in silence until Benny stopped his phone call.

“Well,” Dean said once the four members of the bakery were finally looking at him. “I’ve asked you come here because I need to tell you something.”

“We already know this,” Kevin said, and Dean never thought he would feel like strangling him in such a way.

“Don’t be a smart-ass, kid, this is difficult for me,” Dean replied. Clearly the atmosphere wouldn’t be turning more serious unless he spoke some shocking facts, so Dean said, “I’ve discovered why Cas is deeply indebted.” The confession made everybody keep silence, including Claire who looked at Dean after some seconds staring at the main room, with her mouth open.

“How could you…?” Charlie started, gobsmacked.

“My brother discovered it and told me,” Dean replied, serious. “And no, I’m not telling you this because I have the intention of threatening you and betraying Cas as you surely are supposing, Claire, because somehow staying at Cas’ side for months is not enough for you to trust in me yet,” he replied severely, noting she was about to speak. “I’m telling you because I need an action plan to help Cas and I have none.”

“Why spy on Castiel, then? Why didn’t you just… ask him?” Kevin asked in a suspicious tone Dean didn’t like.

Dean rubbed his hand in his face, counting to three and breathing deeply in order to avoid being rude. “I didn’t _spy on_ Castiel, Kevin, I’ve asked him plenty of times why he was in debt and he always answered in a roundabout way, no matter how hard I tried. My brother figured it out before Cas told me, that’s all,” he explained.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Charlie said.

“I know,” Dean replied, “but I had no other choice. He’s stubborn and I really want to help Cas.”

“What’s your brother anyway? A CIA agent?” Claire questioned, still distrustful.

“Thank you for asking, I was getting there,” Dean said in the same sarcastic way and Claire replied rolling her eyes. “My brother is Sam Winchester, California lawyer, graduated from Stanford. I’ve asked him please to be Castiel’s lawyer from now on, and to write a new restraining order for him. He accepted, so he did one, and he will travel tomorrow to get it signed. Are you getting where I’m going or are you still only focused on thinking I’m fucking Lucifer?”

“I believe you, brother, keep on talking,” Benny said, and Claire looked at him, surprised.

“I believe in you as well,” Charlie added and smiled at Dean. The youngest members of the staff remained silent, but Dean didn’t think badly of them; it was a logical response.

“Thank you,” Dean said honestly. “I suppose you all suspect why I’m doing this. I don’t want to make any confession of sorts about how I feel in front of anyone but Cas, though, so if that’s what you’re looking for, Claire, Kevin, I’m sorry but you’re not the recipient of that information yet. You will have to believe in me without that. All you have to know is I’ve walked a long road since I’ve met Cas, I’ve recovered a lot of who I used to be before joining Sandover, and I want to help him not only because of how I feel about him, but also in gratitude for what he had done for me.” Claire and Kevin didn’t respond yet, and Dean’s heart constricted a little for that, because he thought convincing them would be a little easier.

“Do you want us to pay for your brother’s service?” Kevin asked timidly and Charlie groaned.

“That’s not the point Dean is trying to—” she began to say, but Dean interrupted, starting to get pissed off.

“My brother is working for free, Jesus Christ, what’s the matter with you?” he said, not even trying to cover his frustration. “I’m at a disadvantage here too, okay? I’ll face Zachariah with the damn document, I’ll lose my job, and I’ll have to leave the apartment I’m currently living in because I won’t be able to maintain it anymore, blah blah!”

“What are you talking about?” Claire asked, confused.

“Do you think I will be able to keep on working there, after doing exactly the opposite that they asked me to do?” Dean replied. “If they don’t fire me, I will resign.”

“And what you will do after that?” Benny replied, with a tone of worry in his voice.

“My family and Cas say I have the potential to work in a better place, or even on my own,” Dean replied. “I will listen to them this time.”

Claire left to the main room before sharing a long stare with Dean that could easily compete with Castiel’s one in intensity. “Kevin, come with me,” she said and they both disappeared. Dean sighed deeply when he realized neither Charlie nor Benny would say anything else and hit the back of his head against the wall repeatedly, closing his eyes.

Minutes later, when Dean thought the so-called conclave had definitely been a failure, both kids appeared again and surprised him completely..

“Castiel is very important to us, do you get that?” Claire said, threateningly.

Dean wanted to scream at her but managed to behave. “Of course I know,” he said. “He is really important to me as well, even when you don’t want to believe it.”

“It’s not that we don’t want to believe it,” Kevin pointed out. “It’s just we have decided to tell you something you should know if you really want to help Castiel, and we have to be sure you won’t turn it against us.”

Dean arched his brows and looked at them with incredulity. Then turned to watch Benny and Charlie, who looked as disoriented as him. Good to know he was not the only one.

“Don’t look at us like that… it’s just, once upon a time… we were interns of Sandover?” Claire said, doubtfully. Charlie and Benny opened their eyes completely bewildered and Dean stifled a cry. “Before you start lecturing us or shit, I’ve said we _were_ , okay? We are not working there anymore. We’re embarrassed to say we ever did, but we were kids barely out of school, and we wanted a good job while studying at college. Sandover took us both and some other students from our school to their IT Department.”

“To be honest, we mostly did data entry, we were practically slaves, and had no time to study at all,” Kevin continued. “But the pay was good and we needed it to help our moms.” Dean remembered they told him once, in between bickering and coffees, that Claire’s mother was a widow and Kevin’s was a single parent. He could understand the pressure. “Once, at the end of the first semester of college, we both couldn’t do it, and failed a couple of exams. My mom got really angry with me, so I went to see my boss to discuss my situation, to see if I could work a little less every day, I don’t know, to make an agreement with him. He agreed with me, only if I went to Castiel’s bakery in the hours I would use to study to be there and you know… to act as a spy as well, basically.”

“I cannot believe what I’m listening to,” Charlie interrupted. “All those times you were sat at the table by the window with your books you were—”

“Yeah, well, that’s what it was,” Kevin confessed sadly. “And if we never mentioned it before it was because we were ashamed. I still am, so if you could say no word to Castiel after this day, please, we would appreciate it. It was not like I played the spy card for a lot of time. I did it a couple of weeks and then I couldn’t do it again. Castiel was amazing, you two as well. And I liked this place. The problem was I said that to my boss as well, thinking their malice wasn’t so strong, he got angry at me and then fired me. When I picked up my stuff from the cubicle I told Claire, and I came here to see if Castiel could help me, give me a job, no matter what it was. I was open to cleaning the bathrooms, whatever he had. Clearly he could, because he always can. He gave me this job and I’ve been able to study and work at the same time with no pressures from that moment.”

Charlie huffed. “That was shitty of you,” she said, looking at Kevin, who blushed. “You lied to us for how much time? A year?”

“Thirteen months,” Kevin confirmed, even redder than before. “We didn’t lie, we just… hid it,” Charlie chuckled sounding disappointed. “I know, it’s basically the same… we are sorry, Charlie.”

Charlie shrugged her shoulders and Kevin lowered his gaze. Benny walked to him and patted him in the back. “You will have to gain our trust again, brother, but that’s all. You’re hardworking and polite, it’s just a matter of time,” he said with a serious expression and Kevin nodded.

Claire stayed by the door, looking at Dean. “I’m sorry too,” she said, her eyes wet. “I’ve been particularly hypocritical with you all this time. Perhaps it was that I saw myself in you and that made me judge you,” she acknowledged, mortified, but Dean preferred staying quiet. “Did I ever tell you Castiel has the same eyes and hair color that my dad used to have?” she tried and Dean shook his head slowly. “That’s why I call him uncle, but I never told him.”

Dean stared at her speechless for a moment. He wanted to yell at her a little, but if he had learned something over the course of those months was the power of seconds chances. “You and me, kid, it looks that we are similar,” Dean replied, with a shy smile. “Feeling ashamed of working at the same place… experiencing strong feelings for someone without telling them…”

“Two of a kind,” she replied and smiled him back. “Perhaps that’s why we argue all the time,” she sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling but said nothing else. Someone called her name from the main room and she disappeared to attend them.

“I was cubicle neighbors at Sandover with Claire,” Kevin continued when the little exchange between Dean and Claire was over, “so when I was fired you can imagine she didn’t take it well. She wanted to take some revenge in my name, and she started looking for stuff in the servers, information of any kind, passwords, whatever she could to get access on the system and make a mess. We met once a week to plan what we wanted to try next, whatever we could. I had fun, I confess. At some point, in between the trojans and spybots we tried, we found something we didn’t intend to.”

“What?! What did you find?” Dean asked, perplexed.

“Some documents,” Claire replied in Kevin’s place, returning to the kitchen. “Some email conversations between Sandover and lawyers, or accountants, or journalists even, hiding the fact they gained requests for bids by backhanders and defrauding other companies that offered the same job for a more economic budget. It was a lot of documentation, even some conversations about the scams they were doing by chopping down trees for their projects and paying no taxes or planting new ones as they should… I got scared, so I resigned, telling them I was not able to study and work at the same time, and I left before they could discover I was the one reading stuff that was not meant for me.”

“What did you do with the documents?!” Dean asked, feeling how in such a weird circumstance there was finally some light at the end of the tunnel for him, and Cas, and _‘A Little Slice of Heaven.’_

“I saved them to a memory stick before I left, I’m not that stupid,” Claire answered him in a tone that sounded more similar to the churlish one she used when she wasn’t dropping bombs in the middle of the kitchen. “On more than one, in fact.”

“Oh God,” Dean said, and repeated it three or four times with his eyes closed. “Are you conscious of the stuff you have in your hands with that?”

“Yes,” Claire answered, self-sufficient.

“And so why didn't you ever publish it?” Benny replied, completely out of his element, sounding nervous and anxious.

“Because we are kids, and we are not prepared to face attorneys on our own, trials or whatever you would face exposing this…” Claire answered. “We’re far from rich, and we were sure if we told Castiel, he would try to protect us by all costs and probably he would throw himself even deeper in debt to make the lawsuit work… Kevin didn’t want that, and after I met Castiel, I didn’t want that either.”

Dean couldn’t blame them for thinking like that, clearly Castiel was the kind of guy who would only think about his own well-being after he had thought about everybody else’s.

“But now if we know Dean’s brother is a lawyer, perhaps…” Kevin tried timidly and Dean couldn’t be gladder about the fact they were the ones mentioning it.

“I cannot even start explaining to you how happy Sammy would be if I gave him that information…” Dean replied, with a chuckle. “He hates Zachariah’s guts with an ardent passion.”

“He must be very smart then,” Charlie said. “I think everybody should hate him, but only a few do...”

“I joined the group a little while ago,” Dean confessed, still ashamed by the fact it took him so much time to realize who he was working for.

“It’s perfectly normal. You’d only have to worry if you were still not part of this group, after all the stuff you’ve discovered, and after deepening your bond with our boss they way you have, if you know what I mean...” Benny said winking and making Dean smile.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Dean confirmed, amused and ashamed in equal proportions, and Benny raised his thumbs up. Dean was amazed, this was literally the first time he felt he was in the middle of a group of friends who included him and cared about him since he left high school, and it felt incredible.

“Please tell us you have a copy of the documents here, Claire, or that you can share it with Dean quickly,” he added, looking at the young lady with increasing expectation.

Claire shook her head, but started talking before Benny’s disappointment was shown on his face. “I could go to my house and get it right now, though,” she suggested and Dean was suddenly lost in the uproar of _yes_ and _please_ the other members of the staff, including himself, were throwing at her. “Okay,” she said simply, stripping her apron off, but before she could leave Dean moved to her side.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, sharing a hug with her, which she returned. “It means more to me than you can imagine,” he said quietly in a way only she could hear.

Claire hugged him harder after that. “If you can make this work, actually if you can save uncle Castiel, please look after him,” she answered in the same tone and broke the hug with a timid smile.

“I will,” Dean answered simply and she nodded at him, leaving the bakery swiftly after that.

The rest of the guys returned to their activities when they discovered there were a couple people in line to be attended by the counter. Benny walked to Dean before he left the kitchen and patted his shoulder amicably. Dean groaned at the force of it and Benny laughed.

“You two, Castiel and you, are so different but so the same,” he said confusing Dean. Benny noticed and smirked. “Ask him how he reacts when I pat him,” he explained and went to the oven, to take the pan out of it.

“That’s because you have the paws of a bear,” Dean replied and walked to the baker’s side.

“That was _exactly_ what I was talking about,” Benny replied and poured the chocolate mixture in the tart. “See? It’s easy from now on, you have to leave it in the fridge for a couple of hours and that’s it. It’s ready to eat,” he handed the pan to Dean and the accountant went to the fridge to leave it. “Do you want me to teach you how to make Castiel’s favorite sauce?” Benny added and Dean went for it, with a renewed stamina, consequence of his conversation with the bakery staff. Deep down Dean considered them his friends and appreciated them grandly for what they were doing for him and Castiel.

Benny taught him how to cook a cherry-vodka sauce that made Dean moan in pleasure after it was prepared and tasted. Benny asked Dean what he would do with the dessert, and Dean insisted he would do one on his own and bring it to Cas’ house to celebrate once the whole situation was resolved. However, he agreed with Benny to leave both the tart and the sauce in the bakery’s fridge in case Dean’s preparation went to hell and he had an emergency.

Benny was already cleaning the counters, ready to prepare the cookies for the next day when Claire came back, with a big smile in her face. She handed Dean the memory stick and winked at him.

“Go and do it, James Bond,” she said, cheekily.

Dean smiled, pretentiously and took the disk. “James Bond, huh?” he wondered, winking at the girl. “Who do you think I am? Daniel Craig? Sean Connery? Roger Moore?”

“I was thinking more about Peter Sellers in that horrible movie Woody Allen made,” Claire answered and that woke up Benny’s laugh again.

“How old are you?” Dean asked, feeling defeated. “Twenty? How can you know about that movie? You shouldn’t!”

“I know my shit, darling,” she answered and walked to the main room. “Now go and save the chick,” she added and left the place.

“Cas is not a chick,” Dean replied quietly, almost shyly. “And I cannot do it alone…”

Benny noticed his tone and turned around.

“You’re James Bond, Dean, you don’t need anyone else,” he said jokingly but stopped once he noticed Dean’s expression. “Are you serious with the melancholy, brother?” Dean nodded closing his eyes and Benny stopped his work completely. “What do you need? We could go with you, but I’m afraid we wouldn’t be helpful. Your brother can do it…”

“I’m James Bond, but I need a Q… or an M… I don’t know,” he said, looking at the memory stick. “Sammy will help me, but it’s not enough. I need a Sandover enemy to make this work,” he said, pointing out the disk with his hand. “I’m not enough of a threat for them. Don’t you know someone I could talk with?”

Benny considered his answer. “Castiel is an enemy…” he suggested, unsure.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean answered rudely and Benny hardened his expression. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, slightly red. “But I don’t want to involve Cas in this if I have the chance. There must be another one,” he added, frustrated.

“Sandover has incredible amounts of money, and when you have money, you can buy anyone. Journalists, politicians, other businessmen…”

“He didn’t buy Cas,” Dean pointed out, somehow proud of him.

“Castiel is not an ordinary man,” Benny answered, and Dean had no other prospect than agreeing with him. Castiel was unique. “I don’t know if you will like this… but, you may try with Gabriel…” Benny suggested, unsure of Dean’s reaction.

“Are you joking? He hates me. Don’t you see him every time he comes here, looking at me as if I am…? I don’t know… a killer,” Dean answered, and seethed.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Don’t you want to pursue a relationship with Castiel?” he asked, and Dean nodded. “A meaningful one? Long-term?” he added, and Dean nodded again. “Then stop being a mommy’s boy and face the fact you have to make it work with him. Gabriel is the only family Castiel cares about, don’t make him choose between you and him, he has too much already on his shoulders.” Benny said and Dean couldn’t disagree. He didn’t want to cause any new problem or negativity in Castiel’s life. “Gabriel doesn’t trust you because you work in his brother’s company. But if you go there and tell him what you’ve just told us here he won’t be such an asshole to deny you the possibility to speak. Yeah, he is bitter at you, and he’ll probably make it hard for you, but this is where you need to speak your mind, and be like a movie hero. They make things work.”

That was when they both heard a new voice coming from the main room, and both turned to the door in surprise. “YOU CAME BACK, BOSS!” Kevin yelled in a way that couldn’t be more forced. Dean thought Kevin wouldn’t win an Oscar.

“Just go and make it work before Kevin starts reciting a poem or something,” Benny said and continued with his cookies, ignoring Dean from that moment, even when he called his name a couple times after that.

The sound of Castiel’s laugh attracted Dean to the door, and when they both met, Castiel surprised Dean completely.

“Look at this, Dean, Noah made me a tattoo!” Castiel said, and shown Dean the doodle Benny’s kid made on his forearm. Dean had no idea what it was supposed to be and asked exactly that to the bakery owner. “I have no idea what it is,” he answered. “He didn’t want to delve into it. Isabella told me he has started showing interest in pirates and vampires, it’s a weird combination, but perhaps… these can be the canines, you see?” he pointed at something that Dean decoded as a simple scrawl. Perhaps he just had no talent for art.

“Vampires and pirates… a Vampirate?” Dean joked instead of answering, and Castiel looked at him shaking his head affectionately, as if he was the craziest guy he had ever met. Probably he was, taking into account what he was going to do. Dean cleared his throat and faced the inevitable. “Hey babe,” and there it was, the _babe_ again, but it didn’t sound forced or awkward for him. Castiel looked at Dean, visibly touched by the pet name, as unlike the first time, in opportunity time he had heard it. Although scared, Dean took Castiel's hand, and keep on talking. “I need you to tell me where Gabriel lives,” he said and Castiel’s surprised expression grew exponentially.

“What?” he asked, sounding really startled by the fact they could share a room together. “What do you need from him? Will you fight with my cousin?”

Dean groaned but took Castiel by the shoulders. “Why would I fight with him?” he asked and Castiel’s answer was expressive and silent. Yeah, perhaps that was not the most perfect counterattack. “Well, yeah, I know we haven’t behaved like best friends since we met, but I really need to talk to him…”

“You can wait until tomorrow, he’ll likely be coming here,” Castiel interrupted, clearly in desperation to avoid the encounter.

“It cannot be tomorrow, it has to be now, Cas,” Dean pleaded.

“Why?” Castiel rebutted, stubbornly.

“Because I need to talk about something with him, that’s all,” Dean answered patiently, without realizing his hands had gone from Castiel’s shoulders to his face in a second. From the corner of his eye he watched that some customers were looking at them but he couldn’t care less.

“Can’t you tell me instead of Gabriel?” Castiel insisted.

“Not yet, but of course I will,” Dean whispered and stared at Castiel, feeling guilty, but knowing at the same time he couldn’t involve him in his imminent confrontation at Sandover. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel replied. “You are the most trustworthy man I’ve ever met.” Dean’s chest constricted at that. He couldn’t let Castiel down. He _wouldn’t_ let him down. “And you? Don’t you trust me?”

It was like a knife in Dean’s heart, considering Castiel thought he was the problematic one. If anything, they were a pair of emotionally constipated dudes. “C’mon, Cas, I obviously trust you. I more than trust you. I lo—” he stopped, he couldn’t say it yet. “I…” he tried again, Castiel staring at him expectantly. And since Dean was used to behaving according to what his heart wanted these days, he leaned in and kissed him right there in front of the whole store.

Castiel kissed back immediately, and even if chaste, Dean could feel what they were not saying with words in that moment. Castiel’s mouth tasted of pears, and Dean’s of chocolate. It was a good combination, according to him. Something he wanted to taste forever.

A sudden and rapturous applause interrupted them and Dean leaned his head on Castiel’s shoulder, sighing in embarrassment.

“Mom! They are boyfriends! I told you they were boyfriends!” a kid screamed in between the claps and whistles. _‘Oh, great,’_ Dean thought. Jesse was there, the icing on the cake.

“I think we’ve just let the cat out of the bag, Dean,” Castiel said, leaning his head against Dean’s. It was one of the sweetest gestures Dean had ever received.

“I’ve never had the intention of hiding you, Cas,” Dean replied and kissed his neck. Castiel shivered at the contact and Dean wished he could be able to make him tremble like that in a clothless and more private atmosphere. “Please, Cas, tell me where your cousin lives so I can end this quickly…”

“End what?” Castiel pushed again, not moving an inch.

“I’m not telling you until it’s over…” Dean replied, and felt Castiel tensing beside him.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Castiel sounded agitated, and the murmuring in the background was not very helpful for either of them.

“I’m doing what I have to do,” Dean replied, completely convinced, and breaking the embrace in order to look him in the eyes. “Please tell me where Gabriel lives…” the constant murmuring was starting to disturb him. “I’m trying to talk with my fucking boyfriend here, can you stop with the cheering? It’s getting ridiculous,” he asked loudly without even thinking what he was saying until it was out. Some new wolf whistles here and there made Dean rolled his eyes.

“What did you say?” Castiel asked in shock, with a quiet voice that was barely audible.

“That I’m trying to talk to my fucking...” Dean paused. “Oh,” he said then and felt as if his brain was completely empty. Probably it was true, taking into account he had just said something really important without even thinking about it first. “I think,” he tried to say then, remembering how to speak because he had apparently forgotten how to do that as well as everything else. “I think we are… I mean, I think we are a good pair, you know? Like… you and me. Together. I just… assumed, I supposed… Oh, God.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel replied, visibly touched by the accountant’s declaration and with an intense gaze full of hope that made Dean tremble inside. “I like what you’re saying, and I agree with everything you mumbled,” he continued and Dean’s trembling intensified, “I feel really touched by your words, perhaps we should talk later about it…” he completed, blushing profusely in a way that made Dean blush as well. “Can we talk about this again tonight, when it’s just you and me?” he suggested, and Dean didn’t take more than one second to nod and smile at him. Castiel smiled back again and looked at Dean in a way he had never seen before. Dean felt like he could live only with that, and wondered if his expressions were as telling as Castiel’s. He hoped they were.

Castiel kept staring for a while, and bit his lips. He finally leaned in to Dean and kissed him sweetly. “Gabriel lives at 8400 Riley Street,” he said, barely separating himself from Dean’s lips and with his eyes still closed. Dean only heard him, silencing completely the noises the rest of people at the store were making and closing his eyes as well, as a sign of relief. “Two blocks from the South Lake Park, do you know it?” Castiel asked and Dean nodded. Castiel smiled and opened his eyes. “It’s a bungalow painted in lilac, with purple tiles. It’s impossible to get confused with those colors.”

Dean laughed and took Castiel’s cheeks with his hands, caressing. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated more than once, and kissed him again.

“Promise me that you…” Castiel started.

“I promise I won’t fight with Gabriel, I seriously promise you this,” Dean replied, desperate for Castiel to understand in how good spirits he was at that moment. “I won’t fight, and I will come back by the time you close the store so we can go out together and talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed and Dean kissed him one last time before separating. He walked to the door, and heard Jesse congratulating Castiel in excitement. When he listened Castiel was laughing with him and expressing his gratitude, Dean understood once again how deep his feelings for Castiel were.

“I love him. I love him. I fucking love him,” Dean repeated again and again out loud while driving to Gabriel’s house. It was not far from the bakery, no more than fifteen or twenty blocks, so Dean made it quickly, and when he was there, he stopped the car and turned off the engine, without getting out.

The house was seriously distinctive; lilac, blue, purple tiles, and some black details here and there. Looking at it, Dean started to experience a sudden panic. He was soon to face Gabriel Novak. The day he had been fearing since all those weeks ago had finally come. Dean’s relationship with him was tense and wary when they met at the bakery, it never got better since that punch, and Dean suspected that the little guy hated his guts. And with good reason, if Dean was completely honest with himself, taking into account how he appeared in their lives for the first time and the work he was supposed to perform.

That was part of the past, though, so he sighed deeply and got out of the car in order to prove it. Every step to the main door of Gabriel’s house was accompanied by several heartbeats Dean was sure the dog that was running at the other side of the street could hear. He was extremely nervous, to the point he didn’t even try to use his breathing exercises. Fuck them. “They never work when I need them,” he thought when he arrived to the door, sighing deeply one last time.

Dean rang the house’s bell and waited. Nobody answered. He tried a second and a third time without any result. That couldn’t be possible… this couldn’t be happening. All those months Dean tried to avoid Gabriel as much as possible and now that he literally needed him, he was not at home.

Frustrated, and a little bewildered, Dean turned around and sit on the pavement. The car was there, an austere Ford Fiesta, meaning the guy couldn’t be that far. Perhaps he went to the supermarket or something similar and he wouldn’t be gone for long.

Dean used the time he was losing there by sitting on the ground and practicing what he would say to Gabriel.

“I‘m in love with your cousin and I’m not lying as you may imagine, please give me a chance to speak,” he recited first and coughed. “I’m not who you think I am, stop the bullshit and let me talk,” he tried later, getting a little swept away. “I want to help Cas and you won’t stop me from doing it, I will hit you in your tiny nose as you did to me if you insult me again,” Dean continued with a higher volume than he wanted to admit.

“There’s a man in our driveway talking to himself, dad!” a child’s voice said suddenly, surprising Dean who got up in an instant. “He is trying to escape!” the girl continued, practically yelling.

“What the actual fuck?!” Dean replied and then he saw them. Gabriel Sandover in the flesh, carrying a couple of backpacks and a picnic basket, with a little girl walking beside him.

“What are you doing here?! Cussing in front of my child!” Gabriel asked without any finesse and walking to Dean. He looked intimidating and dangerous, even in that small package, but this time Dean wouldn’t be aggravated.

“I need to talk to you,” Dean started, sounding fearless.

“With me? You want to talk with me? About what? About how you’re seducing my cousin to leave him without his store?!” Gabriel started, completely out of his mind, throwing the backpack he was carrying to the floor. “I know the game you’re playing, and I won’t allow you to…” he continued, balling his fist as though to hit Dean for the second time since they’d met, but this time it didn’t end the same way.

Dean dodged Gabriel’s attack and took him by the arm, immobilizing him. The little girl started yelling, calling her mom, and even when Dean felt bad for scaring her, he didn’t free Gabriel.

“You don’t punch me twice, Gabriel, you only had one chance, now you will let me speak,” Dean said, sounding more threatening than intended, and his intention was to continue the little speech if it wasn’t for something hitting him in the head. It was an apple, Dean discovered. It hurt terribly.

“What is happening here? Why are you attacking my husband?” a woman said, clearly the one who’d thrown the projectile. Dean raised his eyes from Gabriel to her and literally froze at what he was seeing. She was like a goddess, tall, magnificent, tanned and indomitable. If she was really Gabriel’s wife, Dean had no idea how the guy had managed it. “Stop staring at me and answer my question!” she said and Jesus, she was clearly someone out of this world.

“I’m…” he coughed but didn’t let Gabriel loose. “I’m…”

“Was my question so difficult to understand?” the lady insisted. “Release my husband immediately,” she asked and Dean complied. Gabriel didn’t try to restrain Dean, preferring to caress his freed wrist.

“I’m…” Dean tried again and internally swore at himself for how stupid he was being. “He attacked me, Jesus!” He paused. “I’m Dean Winchester, and as you can see I’d had a rocky relationship with Gabriel since we met, but I seriously need his help with something.”

“My help?!” Gabriel reacted, completely offended by Dean’s declaration. “Why would I help you, you bastard—” he groaned suddenly, surprised by his wife, who threw another apple from her basket case, this time at him. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I want the man to explain himself and you keep on interrupting him…” she replied, simply and that sole sentence served for Gabriel to stay mulishly silent. Oh, the power of love. Dean could relate. “Keep on talking, Dean.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied, ashamed. “As I’ve said… and I’m sure he will scream when he hears this, but I’m here because I want to help Cas…” he coughed, “I mean, Castiel, his cousin.”

“Do you really think I will believe you want to help Castiel—” Gabriel started.

“Stop, let the guy talk,” the wife answered and Gabriel kept silent again.

“I understand you may not believe me,” Dean continued, “neither of you probably, because—”

“YOU WORK FOR MY BROTHER, HOW CAN I BELIEVE YOU?” Gabriel yelled and his wife stopped him again.

“Can you just think for a little while I’m not interested in working for your brother anymore?” Dean replied in fury, frustrated by the lack of understanding Gabriel was showing.

“AND WHY WOULD I BELIEVE THAT?” Gabriel asked back, toning up his last question.

“Because I love Castiel!” Dean said then, and nobody added a word after that. “I’m in love with him, and somehow he is the only one who doesn’t know, because I have to prove myself confessing how I feel with everybody, including you! Is that enough or do you need more torrid details about how I’m feeling right now so you can believe me?” he finished and Gabriel said nothing, staring at him as if he couldn’t understand what was happening.

“You’re lying,” Gabriel insisted, although he sounded defeated.

“Stop behaving like a kid, Gabriel, much less in front of your daughter. What kind of example you’re giving to her? Dean is not lying, look at his eyes, they are wet,” his wife answered and got closer to Dean, taking him by the hand. “I’m sorry about him, it’s just he loves Castiel a lot, and they defend one another for every harshness they face.”

“I know,” Dean replied, turning his eyes from Gabriel to his wife, again and again. “And I don’t want to have an irked relationship with him, to be honest,” he continued, pointing at Gabriel, “because I seriously want to be part of Castiel’s life and that includes his cousin and his family as well. I don’t want to be an obstacle.”

“Kali, how can you believe him?” Gabriel tried one last time and his wife looked at him incredibly done.

“I believe him because I don’t overreact and I take my time to hear instead of complaining as you do,” she answered and took the kid with her free hand. “We will go inside to keep on talking, you can stay here alone, acting up if you wish.”

“What…” Dean tried to say but Kali’s pressure on his arm was stronger than anything he had felt before, even stronger than Missouri’s. Dean had no other option than accompanying her. “Mary, please leave your father outside until he knocks on the door in shame,” she said and Dean didn’t know what part of the sentence to feel more fascinated about, the fact that it looked like this was an usual behavior the family shared, according to the kid’s funny reaction at her mother’s command, or the fact that the kid…

“She has the same name as my mom,” Dean said before he could stop himself.

“Oh, my baby girl you mean?” Kali asked and a smile lighted her features when Dean nodded, putting the backpack Mary was carrying to the armchair and turning on the lights. “Mary is a beautiful name, _‘wished-for child’_ I’ve heard it means. By the look of your face, she may be a beautiful person as well. How is she doing?”

“My mom was indeed a beautiful person, but she is dead,” Dean said without beating around the bush. When he noticed Kali’s reaction to that, as if she was feeling guilty for what she asked, Dean added. “Please, no, no, don’t worry, she died long time ago, when I was a kid, it’s okay,” he tried desperately and Kali’s expression softened.

“Perhaps this is a sign then,” she declared. “You lose an important Mary in your life, you gain a new one...”

Dean blushed at that declaration, and he knew, looking at the little girl that Mary would be a more than perfect niece. “I wish,” he said then and Kali winked at Dean, at the same time Gabriel knocked at the door.

Mary went to it, as Kali instructed, without being told twice, and Gabriel’s face looked a picture once the door opened. The little girl laughed at her father’s hair, all messy as if he had been scratching it nonstop since they left him behind.

“I don’t believe this corny novella you’re telling me,” Gabriel started and Dean's heart beated profusely, imagining a new argument between them, “but I will give you the benefit of the doubt and I will let you express yourself,” he completed, surprising Dean. “If I sense you’re lying to us after your speech, as I suppose you are, I will kick you out of my house, so try to be convincing at least. Are we clear?” he asked moving the backpack to sit on the armchair and pointing Dean to another. “Sit,” he ordered and Dean did as he was told. He didn’t want to darken the atmosphere when it looked it was turning into something more promising than he had imagined. Mary and Kali did the same, occupying the third armchair opposite Gabriel's. “Now, start.”

Dean was torn between killing Gabriel with his bare hands for the way he was talking to him or being respectful and polite for the cause. The former was extremely tempting, but in the name of Castiel, he let the latter win this time.

“I won’t deny I work for Sandover or that I was sent to Cas’ bakery in order to convince him to sell it because that would be stupid of me, and a lie,” Dean started and Gabriel groaned, “but I will deny all the other stuff you believe about me and my intentions. I’m not a good for nothing, or a narcissist, or a materialist prick as I’ve heard you say when you were at Cas’ store. And if I was any of that at some point in my life, that I probably was, according to my family, your cousin changed it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! How can you say that? You’ve known Castiel for… what? A few weeks…?” Gabriel replied and Dean was surprised by his less attacking tone.

“I’ve known him for more than three months now,” Dean cleared up and Gabriel rolled his eyes. “And I don’t know how he managed it. I’m as surprised as you, but the truth is he did. And it’s not something I’ve noticed on my own. My own family told me I was changing for the best since I met him, and I agree. Now I want to enjoy my life and fight for my happiness. Before I met your cousin all I did was working, and being a miserable loner with only money to waste,” he paused a little and started again. “I don’t know how being in love operates, to be honest this is the first time I feel it, but you’re surely versed by it, taking into account the family you have, so you should know I’m not lying.”

Gabriel kept silent, trying to process all the stuff Dean was sharing with him.

“You said you fell in love with me the very first time you saw me in Frank’s office,” Kali said pompously, imitating her husband. “So don’t come here telling it’s impossible because you’d be lying, or that you’d lied to me. Either case, it’s not convenient for you,” she completed, with severity.

Dean saw in Gabriel's gaze how he was feeling more and more cornered with every sentence spoken in the room. Dean couldn’t deny, even when it was not the main aim he pursued with his visit there, he felt a little victorious with that.

“Let’s pretend I believe you,” he said finally, and Dean released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, “And with _pretend_ I’m being terribly generous… what are you doing here?”

“I’ve already told you, I need you to help Cas…”

“Help him how?” Gabriel insisted.

“Look, I’ve liked your cousin since the moment I met him, and even when I was part of Sandover and I took my task seriously… I never liked it completely. The fact I started a relationship with Castiel in the middle was basically the trigger I needed to stop all the stuff that was affecting me negatively, including my job. I have to pay Castiel back for what he has done for me,” Dean said, opening up his heart in a way he never knew he could do in front of Gabriel. “I’d been thinking about possibilities to help him for weeks… and one day I asked my brother to find out…”

“Were you spying on Castiel?” Gabriel replied again. His behavior up to that point was too good to be true.

“Aren’t you listening to me, jeez?!” Dean replied, all politeness forgotten. “I was not _spying_ on him. I was trying to understand how I could help him since I knew he was involved in more debts than he could afford and I needed to stop that. Am I being clear enough or do you need me to repeat it?” Dean added, and when Gabriel, in his astonishment, didn’t reply to him, he continued. “My brother is a lawyer, okay? An attorney! And he discovered the origin of Castiel’s debts, because that’s the kind of genius he is. Now if you ask me, he is coming to Kansas from California to help me and so Cas can sign the restraining order he prepared for him.”

“What?” Gabriel said stunned, eyes wide.

“You heard. My brother, Sammy, is volunteering to be Castiel’s new lawyer for free because he is a great person, and because he knows how much that would mean to me. He is so excited about this he is paying his own plane ticket to meet Cas and help him.”

Kali had her mouth slightly open in surprise. Gabriel, for his part, kept staring at Dean as if he was watching a ghost dancing the tango, or something equally incredible.

“That’s all really remarkable, and I’m seriously surprised by this, but…” he replied finally, in a quiet voice. Kali called his name, severely, but Gabriel stopped her. “I’m not meaning it that way. I’m not bashing you, Dean, to be honest I’m gratefully in shock. But… seriously. Do you really think a young lawyer can arrive on his own, with a paper my demon of a brother doesn’t want to sign by fair means and just… do it? It won’t happen until you have something else…”

“Exactly, now we are finally talking the same language,” Dean answered and Gabriel arched his eyebrows at him. “I’ve, you know… asked around about connections and enemies or something dirty your brother could have…”

“For blackmail?”

“Yes, otherwise he won’t sign anything, and you know it.” Dean confirmed, proudly. “Destiny or karma must be in our favor because someone gave me this,” he completed, showing Gabriel the memory stick Claire gave him.

Gabriel and Kali looked at it equally confused. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Information that you’ll probably find interesting and may be useful for us,” Dean replied.

Gabriel stayed silent for a while, thinking about what to do next. “Can I take a look at it?” he finally asked, standing up. Dean handed him the memory stick and Gabriel walked to the door. “I will be absent for a minute, so if you try to seduce my wife or steal something from my house, I will know and I will kick you in the balls,” he said before disappearing down the corridor.

Dean turned to look at Kali, who was looking back at Dean in amusement. “What’s wrong with your husband?” he asked, and she laughed.

“It’s just you broke, in ten minutes, all the misconceptions he had about you, and that confuses him,” she answered, as if it were nothing. “Do you want coffee?” she added and Dean nodded.

“With a drop of milk, please?” Dean asked, and Kali nodded and walked to the kitchen, leaving him alone with Mary. The girl was sat on the floor now, with a bunch of Crayolas and a couple of sheets of paper, with her attention completely fixed on the drawing she was developing.

Dean was curious about what she was doing, so after some minutes of fighting with himself, he changed his position to be closer to her. The girl was apparently not as engrossed as Dean had thought, since she immediately looked at him, and smiled.

“You made dad get angry, and he is funny when he is angry,” she said amused and turned to the drawing again. Dean’s presence clearly didn’t intimidate her.

“I would have prefered to be more amicable with him since I’ve met him, to be honest,” Dean answered, placing himself better in the armchair beside the kid. “I think your mom does a great job angering your dad already. He doesn’t need me for that.”

The girl laughed without looking at him. “You’re funny too,” she added.

“I’m hilarious,” Dean replied and tried to spy a little better what she was doing. When he understood it was impossible, he pushed his luck. “What are you drawing?”

Mary turned to look at him again and showed him the sheet. It was a doodle of a man, whose more prominent feature was his black hair and blue eyes, surrounded by cakes and chocolate bars, candies and lollipops. “It’s my uncle Castiel,” she declared, even though it was not necessary. Dean had already figured it out by himself. “My dad doesn’t like his family, but he likes him. I like him as well. He always gives me muffins and donuts.”

“I can relate to that,” Dean answered, remembering all those times Castiel just shared something with him for the sole purpose of sharing.

“I like his eyes, they are super blue,” the girl added.

“We have that in common too, kiddo,” Dean finished.

“My daughter is not hot for her uncle, so don’t compare,” Kali said out of nowhere, appearing from the kitchen door when Dean was distracted. “This is exactly what confuses Gabriel,” she added, handing Dean his mug and sitting in the opposite armchair. “He told me about you more than once, and for him you were a monster. A despicable villain that would destroy Castiel’s life,” she started drinking her coffee, and stopped for a couple of seconds. “Then you appear here, and it turns out you’re exactly the opposite of that imaginary demon, and that hurts his ego, Dean. He is incredibly prideful, and I confess most of the time he is not wrong about people. In your case he was, or you’re the best actor we have ever met.”

“I’m not acting, Kali,” Dean replied, in a tone that was more pleading than anything else. He wanted to be believed, he wanted to help, he wished to be a part of Castiel’s life. “I wouldn’t hurt Cas, I’ve never lied to him,” Dean confessed. “Look at me, I was practically programmed to do exactly that and I couldn’t. I cannot say I’ve tried that hard, or that I was delighted to perform the task when I was informed… but it was my job, and I was really proud of working there. I wanted to make them proud of my work as well, I needed a promotion, I depended on their opinion of me to feel satisfied... Now all I want is to escape from there as soon as possible and focus my life on what is really important to me.”

“Castiel being part of that?” Kali inquired.

“Of course,” Dean answered doubtless. “Cas, my own family that I’ve abandoned because of my work… and me. I will start doing stuff for me.”

“I like that plan, and I wish you luck,” Kali replied, mischievously looking behind Dean.

Before he could turn around, a new voice to his back surprised him to the point he almost spilled the remains of his coffee.

“I wish you luck as well, bastard, where did you find this?” Gabriel said. He looked really wound up by what he had read. Wishful thinking, Dean wanted Gabriel to be agitated as well because he’d discovered how wrong he has treated Dean all those months… but that was too good to be true.

When Dean recovered he simply answered, “Someone gave it to me.”

“C’mon, don’t try to give me that childish excuse. Did you pay for this information? Did you perform any kind of sexual favors in exchange of this? How did you get it?!”

“Someone gave it to me,” he insisted. “It would be great if you could start trusting in the fact people can actually like me and share stuff with me because they trust me...”

Gabriel stayed in his place, without moving, as if Dean’s last sentence was an offense. “Don’t overstep your boundaries with me yet, I still don’t like you enough.”

Dean blushed. “Okay,” he said.

“How do I know this is legit?” Gabriel started again. He was apparently more stubborn than a mule. Kali groaned, showing she was exactly as done as Dean was.

Dean didn’t lose his time and took a sheet and a Crayola from Mary and started writing on it. When it was done he placed it to Gabriel’s face, where he couldn’t avoid reading it.

“What does it say here?” Dean asked, pushy.

“Dean Winchester loves Castiel Novak,” Gabriel recited with sarcasm, and Mary laughed in the background.

“Perfect, you know how to read, now stop pestering me and help. It’s real because it’s real, I won’t tell you who gave it to me,” Dean replied. Exactly at that moment Dean was one hundred percent his old self, and he couldn’t feel more proud about that. After Gabriel complied and didn’t counterattack, it was glorious. “I won’t be one of Cas’ poor decisions,” Dean added seriously and Gabriel looked at him surprised. “He’d made enough of those already. I want to be by his side to support him and fix them together.”

“This material is incredible, Kali, go and read it,” Gabriel said after an intense staring, avoiding Dean’s topic and handing the memory stick to his wife.

“Later Gabriel, now the fun is here,” she answered and looked between her husband and Dean, waiting for the one who would start outlining a plan.

“I still think we need someone, you know… someone with enough power over them that could scare them a little?” Dean started. “We’re great and everything, but I don’t think we are an immediate threat for him. He could put his attorneys against Sammy and wouldn’t sign a thing for months… I want to finish this now. You’re his brother, can you think of someone?”

“Someone who hates my brother and could scare him?” Gabriel asked and Dean nodded. “Everybody hates him unless he gives them enough money to buy their loyalty.”

“There must be someone…” Dean insisted, and got carried away when Kali agreed with him.

Gabriel shook his head, although. “Apart from me and my family, Castiel himself, and apparently now you and your brother, the superhero of Law, we are alone. If you want an immediate threat, as you said, we would need a journalist… and that’s a real problem, because I know a lot of people, yeah, but they are all by his side! He has contacts in The Lawrence Journal-World, for God’s sake, in The Leavenworth Times… in Kansas News, even…”

Kansas News, Gabriel said and Dean retained that part in this mind.

There was something in Dean’s mind telling him something about Kansas News he couldn’t decode. Something he had to remember. Something that was extremely useful…

In the middle of their silence, then, Dean remembered.

And suddenly he thought his heart would be able to run out of his body.

“Who…” he breathed deeply and started again. “Who do you say he is in contact with in Kansas News?” Dean asked properly now. Gabriel looked at him in confusion.

“Bela Talbot,” Gabriel answered and Dean felt like fainting. Was it God being magnanimous with him for once? “As far as I remember she was used by them more than once to spread some untrue information about former employees. She is still Crowley’s lover as well, sadly his wife doesn’t know.”

God was definitely being magnanimous with Dean with that opportunity, and he wouldn’t miss it.

“Oh God,” he said, trying to explain all the stuff running in his brain at that moment. “Bela Talbot… Jesus… Bela Talbot…”

“Yes, Bela Talbot, Dean-o,” Gabriel mocked. “Why are you repeating her name that much? Are you getting a boner? I thought you said you were in love with my cousin’s pe—”

“Gabriel, the kid,” Kali warned and her husband stopped.

“I’ve seen Bela Talbot at the company the other day, when Crowley asked me to meet in his office,” Dean replied, paying no attention to Gabriel’s dirty jokes. When Gabriel wanted to interrupt him, Dean continued. “And she was not happy, she was really angry! I saw her opening Crowley’s door and insulting him. I remember a _‘repugnant pig’_ in between the other things.”

“Are you serious?!” Gabriel asked in excitement, and Dean nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?!” he insisted.

“I didn’t remember, dude, I’ve just remembered now!” Dean replied.

“This all really sounds promising,” Kali added, standing beside him. Dean had no idea when she moved, he was completely focused on his own thoughts. “Go Gabriel, call her,” she said then, handing him a cordless phone.

Dean’s mind was about to collapse. Every puzzle piece was finally fitting together!

“Do you have her number too?” Dean asked, completely out of his mind.

It was too good to be happening. It was too good to even be thought…

“Yes, he dated her for like… what, Gabriel? Two hours?” Kali said, laughing. Gabriel was blushing terribly so Dean realized it was a common tease in between them.

“Three,” Gabriel responded. “We were in the middle of the main course when she apologized to go to the bathroom and never came back.” Kali exploded into laughs and Dean couldn’t deny the anecdote was one of the funniest things he had ever heard. He didn’t know if laughing as well would cause a backward slide in their incipient camaraderie. “It was not that bad, don’t believe my wife, Dean, she is just jealous. I had a great steak that day and the waiter was so sad for me he left it for free.”

“Are… well,” Dean tried to say, fearing the question would be out of place. “Are you sure you want to try talking with her? I mean… she will probably be mean to you…”

“Are you worried about my feelings, Winchester?” Gabriel replied, though not in a malicious way. “You’re not the only one willing to sacrifice something here in the name of Castiel. You will sacrifice your current work and comfort, let me sacrifice a little of my self-esteem,” he thumbed up at Dean and he nodded. “Buckle your seatbelt, squirrel, it’s showtime!”


	9. Wienerbrød

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original name of the famous danish pastry we all know and love. You can check the recipe [here](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/27342/danish-pastry/).

Saying _'we will talk later'_ to your (probably) soon-to-be boyfriend is easier said than done, and that was exactly what happened to Dean that Saturday.

After his meeting with Gabriel, and still in a state of absolute bliss for how good it had turned out to be, Dean drove to the bakery, with the biggest smile on his face, as he had promised Castiel. Once at the door, to Dean’s pleasure, he discovered the store was already closed, and Castiel was probably there alone cashing up. Dean didn’t want to sound soppy, but that was one of his favourite moments of the day. It was not only about being alone, sharing jokes (along with some kisses) and conspiratorial glances with one another, but also about knowing how well the bakery was doing, how proud he was about it, and how much profitable it would become once Dean could take care of Zachariah, as he wanted to do. After the situation was solved, all earnings would return to the bakery itself, and Dean was sure Castiel could even open a branch bakery in time, if he wanted and was cool with saving money.

There were a lot of things Dean wanted to offer Castiel, and since he was sure everything would turn out okay in the imminent future, Dean made a mental note for each one of them to be talked later.

For now, he just knocked the door, in hope Castiel could hear him. When there was no answer after some seconds, though, Dean knocked again and put his head against the glass. The light that was turned on was the kitchen’s one. Clearly Castiel had already finished counting money and was doing something else. Dean heard a murmur of music in the distance as well, and then Dean understood why nobody paid him attention.

“Cas!” Dean yelled then, more than once, and knocked harder. Still like that, there was no answer, so Dean took out the phone as a final alternative, in order to call him. Dean was freezing outside. When he was about to press the send button, although, he heard a voice going towards the door, finally. It was clearly Castiel, but Dean couldn’t avoid chuckling when he heard he was singing, and that was how Castiel found him when they met face to face.

“Did you hear me?” Castiel asked, terribly embarrassed, if the color of his face meant something. He was a mess, his hair all uncombed, his apron covered with chocolate and flour, but for Dean he couldn’t look more adorable.

He expressed exactly that, when he got into the store and took Castiel with him, pushing him against himself intently and kissing him full in the mouth while closing the door. It was amazing, the way they communicated with each other while kissing, as if they had done that for years, as if their bodies could say what words usually did to other couples. When Castiel took him by the hair, Dean knew for sure he wanted to go on, so he complied, happily, saying no other words, until he couldn’t breath anymore. “I did hear you, Novak,” he said, with his eyes closed and panting irregularly. For the way Castiel’s chest moved Dean realized he was not the only excited one and that made him feel great. “I think you sing really well,” he managed to say before Castiel interrupted him, snorting.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean,” he replied, in a gravelly tone almost menacing that aroused Dean even more, to the point it was starting to be notorious in his jeans. Castiel stopped whatever thing Dean wanted to say next with a new kiss, hungrier than the previous ones. Dean interpreted that as a sign to keep on going so he took Castiel by the waist and walked him to the nearest wall, pressing him against it. Castiel welcomed the gesture taking Dean by the ass, and moaning in answer to how close (and hard) they both were. “It’s a pity it’s winter and we are clothed,” he said, in between gasping, once Dean decided to change Castiel’s mouth for his neck.

“We could fix that right now…” Dean replied, barely separating his mouth from Castiel’s skin, and taking him by the belt in order to make the message clearer. Castiel tilted his head to improve the access and Dean explored. “Mmmm,” he mumbled, at some point, and stopped the ministrations suddenly. Dean turned his head to look at his lover, with one of his eyebrows arched.

“What?” Castiel asked, amused.

“You had cream,” Dean replied, and when Castiel didn’t make any gesture of understanding, he continued. “On your neck, you had cream. I just tasted it,” he panted. “If I had known before I would have made something sexy with it…”. That was the last straw for Castiel, who started laughing, and Dean couldn’t do anything but accompany him. Neither of them separated from the other one, though, Dean intensifying the contact with his arm surrounding Castiel’s waist, in an embrace that Castiel reciprocated.

“Your sole presence is sexy enough for me, in my opinion you don’t need anything else,” Castiel pointed out when both stopped laughing, surprising Dean completely. “I’m telling the truth. Have you seen your face?” Castiel continued, when he realized Dean was in shock. “I like you, Dean, you’re really handsome…” he finished, and Dean could see in Castiel’s cheeks he was not the only one blushing. “I was making whipped cream, you know, that was why…” he said, trying to change the subject on his own behalf and Dean’s as well. “I got scared at one point because I saw a shadow in the window… I knocked the bowl over and I got cream all over my face and the apron. I tried to clean myself up but—”

“A shadow? What was it? Did you find out?” Dean asked, panicking suddenly and thinking it could had been Zachariah, or Bartholomew…

“It was a kitten,” Castiel answered, deducing Dean was worried about his wellbeing, caressing Dean’s face as a sign of comfort and gratefulness. “Samandriel, the cat from the laundry around the corner, golden fur, do you remember him?” Dean released the breath he was holding and couldn’t avoid chuckling at that. Samandriel was tiny and people-friendly. There was nothing scary about him, and he told Castiel so. “His shadow was not particularly tiny, Winchester…” Castiel complained, even when he was chuckling as well.

Dean didn’t answer back, completely overwhelmed by the love he was feeling for the baker at that moment. It was inexplicable, almost magical, but he was not scared about it anymore. Dean wanted the completeness of it, the good things and even the bad moments, to bear them up and raise from the flames like a couple of badass phoenixes, together and stronger.

“I would…” Dean tried to say after some seconds of intense staring between them. “I would take you right here, right now if I could,” he finished, not feeling ashamed in the slightest.

“Take me? Do you mean for sexual intercourse?” Castiel inquired, timidly. Dean couldn’t resist laughing at Castiel’s vocabulary. “What?” Castiel asked, confused.

“Did you eat a dictionary today with your coffee?” Dean asked back, amused. When Castiel rolled his eyes and said nothing in response, Dean pushed his luck. “Yes, Novak,” he said as seductively as he could. “For _sexual intercourse_ , or whatever you wish.”

Castiel smiled at that, and Dean knew there were two players in the game at that moment. “Do you think that would be morally allowed, performing a sex act beside the very same table Lady Rowena drinks her espressos every morning?”

Dean looked at the table sideways and groaned in displeasure. “Oh God, Cas, don’t say that, I’m trying to be sexy here…”

“I’ve already told you I think you’re successful in that area, Dean,” Castiel replied.

“Good to know, because I would totally take you beside Rowena’s table, or on it.. or under it. Who cares about Rowena anyway?” Dean answered back, turning to look at his lover again. “Or… by any table, to be honest! I would take you on every surface… That is, clearly, if you let me..”

Castiel kept silent for some seconds, staring at Dean in a way he had never done before. The accountant felt both intimidated and aroused, which was a combination he didn’t know he enjoyed up to that moment. “I trust you,” he said, simply and the thought made a delicious shiver run through Dean’s spine.

“Are you saying _yes_?” Dean asked when he could recover the ability to talk, and Castiel’s smile was a reward he didn’t know he needed that much.

Castiel said nothing, instead closing the distance between them against the wall a little more. The baker pushed his luck and pressed their crotches together, to prove his point. If Dean’s moan against Castiel’s neck meant something, it was how successful Castiel was in the sexy area as well. “Obviously I’m not saying no,” he completed, and moved his hands to Dean’s belt, unbuckling it. In just a couple of seconds Castiel passed from being guided by Dean to guiding him, and Dean couldn’t feel more excited about that prospect.

“Oh God, Cas,” Dean exclaimed, delighted. “I like this, I like you…” he said without thinking and made his own way to Castiel’s pants, hearing his clothes hitting the floor, and Castiel’s hand caressing the skin inside his boxers when…

“Castiel!! Dean!! Are you there?” a voice yelled from outside, frightening both guys to the point Dean jumped in shock, tripped in his pants and fell to the floor. His hands were still firmly grabbing Castiel’s denim, making him fall on top of him as a consequence. They groaned instantly because of the hit but Castiel couldn’t avoid the loud and deep guffaw that followed. “C’mon kids, I know you’re there. I’m freezing my balls off out here!”

It was Bobby. “Seriously, dad?” Dean yelled, annoyed. “We are taking care of something really important right now...!” he continued, at the same time Castiel moved from his place on the floor and lent Dean a hand to stand up as well.

“I’m seeing what kind of businesses you were working on with the lights off, you’re not invisible…” Bobby responded scornfully, making Castiel laugh again. Dean finally stood up, after some awkward tries, and looked at Castiel in the eyes, shamefully, in an attempt of saying _'sorry for my dad,'_ which was incredibly polite of himself, and Dean couldn’t feel more proud of it. Castiel wasn’t as ashamed, apparently, and closed the distance between them, kissing Dean on the lips sweetly.

“Put your pants on before opening the door,” he whispered when they broke the kiss. He ruffled Dean’s hair cheekily and walked to the bakery’s kitchen, leaving Dean alone.

“You’re a coward, Cas!” Dean yelled while buttoning his jeans and walking to the door. The laugh coming from inside the kitchen made Dean feel a tickling sensation in his stomach, stronger than any time before. He sighed and leaned on the door with his hand in the handle in order to keep his composure once in front of his father. The feeling was uncontrollable, though, even in all its awesomeness, and Dean had a hard time trying to recover the ability to breathe.

When he finally could, he opened the door and found himself against such a threatening expression on his father’s face that if Dean hadn’t known they had already made amends weeks before, he would have shitted in his recently replaced pants. “Couldn’t you make me wait a little longer?” Bobby said, testily. “After all, I’ve called earlier today and I told you I would be coming…”

Dean burrowed. “I don’t remember,” he said.

“I do,” Bobby replied. “You said _‘yeah, yeah, dad, I’m working, see you at night.’_ ”

Dean groaned. “C’mon dad, I was baking with Benny, I couldn’t reply!” Bobby huffed. “You have no idea how unavailable I’ve been all day!” Dean replied, showing no signs of intimidation, which meant an improvement in their relationship. “I was…” he tried to say, sounding a little ashamed by the conditions he was discovered in. “I was doing stuff with Cas, dad…”

“Yeah, for instance right now, all naked,” Bobby pointed out and Dean felt his face burning. He couldn’t counterattack with anything else before his father started talking again. “Rubbing one against the other and whatever else you do…”

“Dad!” Dean yelled, mortified. Bobby responded with a guffaw, instead.

“I’m just messing with you, idjit,” he said, in a tone that was equally terrifying and affectionate. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and patted. “To be honest, I’m really happy about you and the Novak kid. I don’t care if you two have dicks, or an octopus in your crotch… I just like the way you behave around him, and the way you came back to the family after meeting him. Your mother cannot be more excited about this, and that’s enough for me,” he paused, and looked at his son intensely. “Look at you, smitten, red-faced, messed up after kissing too much… It makes me remember when you were younger, somehow his presence re-invigorated you. I remember you trying to impress the ladies you wanted to go to the parties with…” Dean intended to interrupt, to say he was wrong, but Bobby gave him no chance. “I know it’s not the same, and I’m glad it’s not. All I’m saying is you look fresher, younger, I don’t know kid, your mother is the one who uses that kind of words in a way that makes sense, you understood me anyway…”

“Yes,” Dean confirmed, looking at Bobby in the eyes. “I feel happy, dad,” he sighed deeply, battling with an idea in his head. “Sorry if I’m not telling you more in detail how I feel, it’s just… I think I’ve told more people than I should already, before telling him,” Bobby smiled, and patted his son again, saying nothing. “Anyway, thanks for the support and everything… but you could have chosen a better moment to come here… half an hour from now, or something...”

“No,” Bobby said, straight to the point and Dean rolled his eyes in response. “You said you’d go earlier today, I cannot wait until you fix the little issue you have down there…” He pointed to Dean’s jeans, ending in a second the intimate atmosphere they had created, and the accountant couldn’t avoid the necessity of hiding his crotch with his hands, loosening the denim’s tightness as much as he could. “If I did, the lasagna your mother cooked would get cold.”

“A meeting with lasagna? Have I heard right?” Castiel interrupted, saving Dean from another dirty joke. He walked from the kitchen with a big smile in his face, as if nothing had happened and they hadn’t been caught in the middle of a situation minutes ago. Sometimes Dean wondered how the hell he did it, it was a distinctive attribute.

Bobby turned to look at him, stretching a smile, or something in his universe was similar to one, and confirmed it. “It’s just a dinner, with you two, Ellen and me, Jo and her boyfriend. Nothing pretentious, but I want to announce something to you all.”

“What?” Dean pushed, surprised by the turn of events.

“Dean… after the lasagna,” Bobby replied, rolling his eyes.

“Announcements are better with a lemon pie, in my experience,” Castiel pointed out, “just let me see... I think I’ve seen one behind the counter... Benny bakes awesome lemon pies…” he mumbled while hiding himself behind the counter, looking for the dessert.

“Cas, tell me how much it is, I will pay for it…” Dean tried, but Castiel showed up his face from the counter, with an incredulous expression on it.

“Are you crazy, Dean? I don’t charge family,” he replied and disappeared again, leaving Dean completely in awe, with his heart racing to impossible speeds.

“You can support your shaking body on me, son, I understand the emotion. Family doesn’t end with blood, kid, I’ve always told you that,” Bobby offered to his son, sounding weirdly supportive. “All I ask is for fuck’s sake, don’t piss yourself here, I didn’t bring diapers with me,” and that sounded more like him, even when Dean was not in conditions to reply.

Dean didn’t reply or say anything for a while, in fact, and Bobby didn’t push for him to. All he did was look at Castiel, when he appeared with the pie in his hands again, when he went to wrap it, when he walked to the door to meet them, when he took the bakery’s keys to lock up, not without a little peck on Dean’s lips first.

“What happened?” he asked, visibly worried, when he realized Dean’s astonishment.

Dean limited himself to shake his head and sighed deeply. “Nothing, just thank you,” he said, taking Castiel by his free hand while the other guy closed the store.

“You say thank you a lot lately, Dean,” Castiel replied, when he finished his task and turned to look at him.

“I have my reasons,” Dean replied, and walked him to Bobby’s car, a beaten-up Chevrolet Chevelle his father refused to stop driving and where he was already waiting for them. Dean tried to let Castiel take shotgun, but he categorically declined, arguing that was Dean’s place to take.  

“I have a pie to watch over,” he said and placed both himself and the lemon pie in the back seat of the car. Dean missed holding his hand so much once they separated that he took it again after sitting besides Bobby. Castiel didn’t deny him, and most of the time they were staring at each other by the mirror. Castiel looked both confident and shy, and Dean knew that was one of the characteristics he liked the most about the baker.

Once at Bobby’s house, they were received by a rushed Ellen. “The lasagna is already on the table, and we are waiting, what took you so long?” she asked, and Dean looked at the dining room, where Ash waved at him as if nothing had happened.

“They were doing… how did you say, son?” Bobby asked, closing the door and leaving his cap on the coat stand beside it. “Stuff!! They were doing stuff, Ellen, and I had to wait until they—”

“Dad…” Dean warned, hearing Ash and Jo figure it out and laughed at his expense. Bobby raised his hands in sign of defense and left to the dining room.

“Stuff?” Ellen asked, sounding cheeky. “I prefer not to know what you’re talking about.”

Dean didn’t know how to answer, but then Castiel answered. Castiel, the saviour. “I was finishing this lemon pie, Ellen. I had to wrap it and decorate it…” he said and winked at Dean. Ellen looked at the package and took it from Castiel’s hands, smirking as if she had not believed Castiel at all.

“Thank you very much, Castiel, let me put it in the fridge, I will take care of that. You two go and sit with the others,” she said and disappeared to the kitchen.

Dean thanked Castiel again, who dismissed the occurrence, and sat besides him at the table, saving Dean in every occasion he could, while the dinner developed.

The thing was that even when Jo, Bobby and Ash knew how to embarrass him every once in awhile, and even when Dean felt ashamed about it and about all the white lies Castiel was explaining to them every time that happened (one being _“Oh, yeah, Dean was really agitated after helping me to move all those boxes,”_ or the weirdest one, _“No, that’s not a hickey. How can you say that? There was a fly on Dean’s neck and I hit him with my spatula,”_ that particularly produced a massive laughter in his family) Dean felt in peace, and completely loved by them all, no mattering the shaggy jokes or the wisecrack. It was his family, sharing an intimate moment and an exquisite dinner with him and the guy he was in love with. Nothing could be more important than that.

“I think it’s time for the announcement,” Bobby said when they were all eating the dessert, and everybody at the table turned to look at him, in Jo and Ellen’s case with a surprised expression on their faces, clearly showing they had no idea was he would be talking about. Dean didn’t feel such a misfit after that. “I’ve reunited you all here because you are, apart from Sam,” he said, and looked at Dean, “the most important people for me: my lovely wife, my irritating kids, their too-good-to-be-true better halfs…” Castiel didn’t deny that last statement, and Dean felt like floating, “you’re clearly the first people I would talk to about this.”

“Spit it out Bobby, I don’t have all night,” Jo pushed, sounding as nervous as she looked.

“Don’t be so impatient, Joanna Beth, or I will tell you nothing,” Bobby replied and drank his beer, earning a groan from the rest of the family. He rolled his eyes and left the glass aside, “Well, well, shut up. As you may know, the repair shop has been doing really well for some time now.” Everybody nodded, including Castiel, and Dean felt horrible he didn’t know as much about his father as him. “I’ve been saving money, thanks to the profits I’ve made of it, and yesterday I went and I bought another repair shop that was for sale, in Topeka.” Dean heard at so basically everyone else at the table asking Bobby for more details in surprise. Dean made some questions himself in between the rest. He could have imagined a lot of different scenarios, but that was not one of them. “Yes, yes, the idea was to surprise you all, and to make Singer Salvage Yard a franchise. Garth will take care of it, once we make some arrangements, since he met a girl in Topeka he has been dating, Bess I think her name is, and he is really excited to work there. I will hire a couple mechanics to help him, and a couple to replace Garth here. The idea is to open the new shop in a month, so I will need help. I’ve talked with Sam already, and he will help me with all the legal shit I don’t care about, and Ash here will help me with what, kid?”

Ash made a prideful expression while Jo asked him why in the world he knew about Bobby’s plan and she didn’t. Dean couldn’t say she was overreacting.

“With the marketing, Bobby, and the sales software. I’ve told you I’m all business up front, and all party in the back!” he said and Jo couldn’t look more offended by the fact he was not paying her a little bit of attention.

“I couldn’t care less about your back, kiddo, I’ve just only remembered how much that software shit sucked. It’s all yours,” Bobby replied with an expression of disgust and Ash gave him a thumbs up. “I hate a lot of shit, I only like repairing cars,” Bobby pointed out.

“You like reading history books and researching, too, honey,” Ellen added.

“But that doesn’t help me to be good with computers and numbers in general,” Bobby replied. “I will need some help with numbers as well…” he pointed out, giving Dean a meaningful glance. “I can manage with one accounting book, but two…”

“And the sales software!!” Ash added, completely excited.

Bobby groaned. “Yeah, and that fucking monster he will implement… my brain boils of only thinking about it. I could really use some help…”

Dean felt that grave gaze on him again, and instead of looking down in shame, he stared at his father with the same intensity, nodding to him some seconds later. Clearly he was making a point to him, he was offering Dean a choice, and even though scared and confused, he didn’t want to ignore his father and leave it unanswered.

“What do you think?” he asked hours later to Castiel, though, when they were cramped but not uncomfortable in Dean’s childhood bed. The room was dark, and Dean could barely see a thing, but then he perceived Castiel was snoring quietly. “Oh, God, I didn’t want to wake you up, Cas, I didn’t realise you were sleeping…”

Castiel stopped Dean’s blurt with a rapid kiss. “I was not sleeping, Dean. I knew you would need to talk about that eventually, so I was just relaxing in your company with my eyes closed.”

Dean laughed at the answer. “I call that sleeping, dude. Plus, you were snoring,” he said, fondling Castiel’s hair. “What would have happened if I started talking at five in the morning for instance...”

“I would have been up for you,” Castiel interrupted. “And if I wasn’t, I would have woken up. After all, that’s what we better halfs do,” he added and Dean felt Castiel’s smile growing against the skin of his neck.

“That was a…” Dean started to say, but he preferred leaving the _'love confession'_ part of the sentence unspoken. Even when he tried so much, he was still a coward. “Did you hear what my dad said?” Dean asked instead, half panicked, half proud.

“I was in the same room as you, Dean, of course I listened,” Castiel answered, amusedly, and placing himself better on the bed, to the point they were practically hugging, with Dean’s arm over Castiel’s waist. Castiel preferred leaning his hand on Dean’s face, and even in darkness, Dean was completely aware of the level of fierness their stare hid. After some seconds of silence Castiel added, “I’m not bothered by the assumption, however. I confess I would like being your better half.”

“Why?” Dean asked, genuinely puzzled. Dean was not worthy for someone like Castiel.

“Why do you think?” Castiel replied back, with such a security Dean imagined the answer that followed and he didn’t know how to keep on going with the conversation without saying it. It was not that he didn’t mean it back, of course he did, he couldn’t be surer about it. It was only he needed to get rid of Sandover first, and all that he meant to Castiel. He had to free them both of that load before exteriorizing his feelings.

Dean sighed and deepened his embrace in answer, but didn’t say a thing. It was not difficult for him to realize Castiel was disappointed by that, and his heart hurt a little for it. “What do you think about the offer?” he tried to say, changing completely the topic, but Castiel didn’t answer straight away. He felt somehow tense in Dean’s opinion, and he didn’t like it.

When Dean wanted to add something else to that question, to lighten the atmosphere, Castiel spoke. “We have to do what makes us happy, Dean,” he concluded, in a more serious and grave tone than the one he was using before, or the one Dean wanted him to use. “We humans are limited to space, and time. We are finite and mortal. Why would we waste our time fearing?” he added, raising his head a little, in such a way he was face to face with Dean again. In the room they were not more than two black shaped contours, but their skin was hot by the touch, and their blood run through their veins with passion, and a meaning.

“I’m not scared of this, Cas, about us, if that’s what you’re implying. Don’t even think about that,” Dean cleared out, somehow gaining confidence with Castiel’s answer. He raised the arm on his lover’s waist to his hair and caressed him softly. Castiel, even with his tense profile, received the gesture positively and made their foreheads collide. “I’m really sorry I’m such an ass… Cas, wait, let me,” he stopped Castiel when he made an attempt of interrupting him. “I am an ass, that’s an understatement, and I’m not used to relationships, and I’m not used to lo—,” he stopped. Here it was again, that damn word. “Looking after someone that is not my family, or my bloody job. And you’re still here with me at a family dinner, sharing news with my parents because they wanted you here, and I wanted you here as well, because you’re the filling of a hole I had inside me that I didn’t know I needed filled…”

“That was a sexual innuendo, Dean,” Castiel said, in a serious tone, but Dean knew unlike his last sentence, he was teasing a smile in the dark.

Dean couldn’t see it, but he just knew. “Oh, God, Cas,” he exclaimed, completely surprised by the answer, choking the horse laugh he was about to release. “I was talking about my heart, dude, my heart, not my ass!” he added, infecting Castiel in the process.

They were laughing foolishly for a while, until Castiel stopped and blurted what was eating him alive. “About your heart? Were you talking about your heart?” he said.

“Yes,” Dean answered, without beating around the bush, but not adding anything else.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, and remained silent. His disappointment over the fact Dean didn’t specify more than that was all over the room. “I know it looks like I’m pushing you—”

“You’re not pushing me to do anything, Cas,” Dean interrupted. “Or say, or whatever. I’m talking about my heart. For real. And even when I need…” he doubted, “just a little more time to… say stuff I want to say…”

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Castiel asked but Dean didn’t stop his monologue.

“...this other thing is pretty simple to fix,” he pointed out. “I want to try with you, Cas. I want you to be my boyfriend, I want to be yours, like I’ve never wanted in my life before. And with boyfriend I mean, like, the official word, because the whole world apparently thinks we are already, even if we didn’t confirm it… I believe that too, by the way! Earlier today, I was convinced we were already a couple, and I spitted it out without thinking. I believe that now too, as well… you’re in my childhood’s bed, all tangled with me and uncomfortable… why would you do that without complaining if you weren’t my boyfriend, Jesus?” he stopped and breathed deeply. “I want to confirm to the world we are. I want to go out there and proudly hold your hand… Don’t you want that too?”

Castiel remained silent for a while, his breathing erratic and nervous. “Of course,” he replied finally, in a tone that sounded touched to Dean’s ears. The kiss that came after that was more eager than any other they had shared before, like if it were expressing the words Dean didn’t want to say yet out loud, but at the same time he was thinking. Castiel took Dean by the hair, possessively in between his fingers, and Dean choked a moan at the same time his tongue entered Castiel’s mouth. In the heat of the moment, Dean moved above Castiel, and surrounded him with his free arm, making Castiel’s back arch and increasing the friction. “Oh God,” Castiel said, breaking the kiss and moving his mouth to Dean’s neck, biting hungrily. Dean had to bite his own lip and close his eyes in order not to cry out in lust. When he recovered the ability to think, after some minutes of rubbing, Dean took Castiel’s boxers and put them down. Or tried, because Castiel stopped him right before he did it. “Your parents,” he panted, visibly aroused, “they are sleeping at the other side of the wall,” he pointed out, with a movement of his head.

“What parents?” Dean asked, completely out of place.

Castiel chuckled and took Dean by the neck, hugging him. “Yours, Winchester.”

Dean realized where he was and snorted. “I’d completely forgotten where the hell I was,” he said in fits of laughter. “Your wand down there is so magical that I lost sense of time and space…” he added cheekily, making Castiel laugh as well.

“You say that because you haven’t touched it yet,” Castiel replied seriously. “When you do, your own wand will perform a mesmerizing levitation charm I won’t be able to resist as well. How is it called? _Leviosa_...” he added and Dean couldn’t resist the noisy chuckle that came after that.

“Oh God, _Wingardium Leviosa_! Are you referencing Harry Potter for a penis duel between yours and mine?” he asked, amused.

“Perhaps,” Castiel teased. “Usually I don’t get references, but Claire obliged me to watch the whole saga months ago.”

“She did good,” Dean replied. “I like that bloody wizard, but I don’t remember the last time I watched one of his movies… working and all…” he added, placing himself beside Castiel again, in an attempt of calming the little storm his dick was performing at that moment. Somehow, talking about movies was a good idea. When Castiel chose to caress his hair in sign of support for what he had said, though, he realized it wouldn’t be that easy.

“You need more free time,” he pointed out, quietly, and Dean couldn’t do anything more than agreeing with him. Hopefully in a couple of days he would have it. “May I be a little selfish, for a moment?” Castiel asked minutes later, and Dean, who was starting to feel downsy, agreed again. “I don’t want this to stop,” he said, gravely. The tone of his voice made Dean’s heart tremble. “I’m meaning these days, Dean, I’ve really enjoyed them, spending my time with you, getting to know you better… I know it might sound sentimental but…” he sighed deeply, as if he was trying to gain all his inner power to say his next words. “I’m going to miss you immensely this Monday,” he finally confessed. “Your presence in the bakery is irreplaceable, you have no idea how much.”

“It’s not like I’m dying, Cas,” Dean replied, trying to calm down the beating of his heart.

“I know, but still. I want you there, all the time with me,” Castiel replied, distressed. “Observing how you try to bake, with all your passion and effort... or coming and going, and dealing with customers… or just looking at me the way you do, as if I mattered to someone as interesting as you...¨

“It’s not that it looks like that, you matter to me for real, a lot,” Dean interrupted. “You matter to me in a way I never cared about anyone else before. And if you ask me, I like spending my days in your bakery as well, in your company, and I fucking like looking at you, your eyes are breathtaking, and they shine so much…”

“It’s because they are looking back at you,” Castiel replied.

“Your words are lethal, Cas.”

“They are telling the truth,” Castiel added, and Dean didn’t know how to reply to that, and so returned to the original topic.

“Don’t worry about this Monday, Cas. It’s not stopping,” Dean said. Castiel looked up and Dean knew even when he couldn’t see his features he was confused. “I’m not stopping all this, Cas,” he repeated. “I don’t want to.”

“What are you talking about?” Castiel asked, worried. When Dean didn’t reply he insisted with a new question. “Does it have to do with what you were doing with Gabriel earlier today?” he pushed and Dean nodded in the dark. “What? What did you do with him? Oh, Dean, I’m so worried about that… and you don’t want to tell me…”

“You have nothing to worry about, Cas, everything is fine. You will see, and I will tell you when I can,” Dean replied, kissing Castiel on the cheek sweetly. “Seriously, I have it all covered, it’s not trouble.”

“What is covered?” Castiel thrusted.

“I will tell you when I can,” Dean repeated without losing his temper. “I can tell you something else now, though, that is a big secret for everybody in my family except from me…” he started. “Sam comes back home tomorrow with his girlfriend Sarah,” he said, excitedly, trying to cover up all the other stuff that made him nervous. “They come to visit, and it’s exclusive information they gave to me. Sarah can still travel by plane, so they’re coming to see us for a couple of weeks. And with us I’m meaning you too, Sam cannot wait to meet you, I’ve talked to him a lot about you,” he explained. “So much I think he is your fan or something.”

“Congratulations, Dean, you—” Castiel started but Dean gave him no time to say anything else.

“I want you to accompany me tomorrow,” he said, “to pick them up to the airport, and have lunch with them after that. The first thing I want them to do in Kansas is meeting you. That’s how important you are to me.” Dean kissed Castiel to prove his point, and Castiel let him. “I don’t want to do it alone, if I do, my best half would be out of my territory, and that’s not how I function the best.”

“That’s really co-dependent of you,” Castiel teased, caressing his hair.

“I prefer saying infatuated,” Dean replied, overstepping his own limits a little. “I have lethal words as well, Novak. Don’t push me,” he added and closed the distance, grazing his lips with Castiel’s one slightly, his tongue running along Castiel’s bottom lip, taking it lightly with his teeth when the tongue disappeared inside his mouth again. Next time he tried to use his tongue, Castiel surprised it midway with his own, and both fought in the most erotic showdown Dean had ever experienced. “I just wanted to tease, goddammit Cas, you went on to a completely different level…” he expressed breathless and aroused.

“I had to celebrate somehow the setup of our first date as an official couple,” Castiel said, his breathing as irregular as Dean’s but with a indescifrable tone in his voice that Dean particularly enjoyed and seduced him. “Are you complaining, anyway?”

“I would never,” Dean replied, and yawned. “Fuck, I’m exhausted,” he said and yawned again. Castiel chuckled and took him by the hair. His movements were so sweet and light, almost devoted, and Dean could do nothing but relax even more with them.

“So sleep, tomorrow apparently our day will be hectic,” Castiel whispered, turning around to the nightstand. When Dean attempted to move with him, Castiel denied it. “I’m looking for my cellphone, I will ask Charlie to take care of the bakery tomorrow morning,” he explained, returning by Dean’s side. “And feel proud of your powers, I don’t usually leave my staff alone in the store, but I’m doing it for you.”

“I know, thank you,” Dean replied, sleepy.

“It’s a pleasure,” Castiel finished, and Dean suspected he had closed his eyes as well. Dean mumbled goodnight to him, Castiel grumbling his own seconds later. Dean felt asleep while wishing for his nights to be like that from that moment on.

 

 

When Dean woke up the next day, alone in his bed, he didn’t imagine the first reason for that reaction was the prospect of meeting Sam and the great stress it was causing on his boyfriend.

He stretched his limbs out and looked at the floor, where they had thrown their clothes last night, finding nothing. Sure, Castiel was a meticulous man, but something deep down made Dean think he was not the author of that action. When he saw at the chest of drawers he realized he was right.

 _“Clean and scented clothes for my oldest son, you cannot use the same stuff two days in a row,”_ a note above them said, and Dean smiled to himself. Ellen was on every detail. _“PS: I’ve borrowed some clothes from your wardrobe for my other kid, Castiel. I didn’t think you’d care.”_

Of course Dean didn’t. If anything, he was delighted, and partially proud of his mother’s decision. He changed himself, and washed his face and teeth in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen, from where he was already hearing noises.

The panorama was really interesting to see: Jo was complaining to Ash for eating all her toasts, Ash kept on eating whatever, Bobby was asking for Jo to tone her complaints down while yelling more than her, and Ellen was by the stove, checking the fried eggs with Castiel’s company, whose smile could be perceived by Dean just looking at his back.

Dean walked to him, by force of habit, and took Castiel by the waist, hugging him. When Castiel didn’t hug him back immediately, Dean realized he was not as relaxed as he had imagined, and turned his face to look at him.

“Good morning mom, Cas, why are you so tense?” Dean asked, visibly worried, but Castiel shook his face, without saying a word. “Did something happen?” Dean tried again. Castiel didn’t answer that time either, but placed himself face to face to Dean and took him by the face with both hands. After some seconds of staring he pecked him on the lips.

“Don’t worry, Dean, everything is fine. Good morning to you too,” he said and released himself from Dean, taking the plate with the eggs and carrying them to the table. Dean looked completely puzzled, scared even, thinking he had done something wrong while sleepwalking (there was no other way) but Ellen took him by the hand and murmured him something he didn’t catch.

“I’m asking you if you think you had done something for him to be like that...” she repeated in a mumble.

“No!” Dean answered immediately, louder than intended, if Ash’s expression to him from the table meant something.

“So stop worrying, kid. It’s perfectly fine for him to be nervous when he is here sharing the breakfast with his boyfriend’s family at this time of the morning, when he should be working,” she pointed out, with her usual motherly tone. Dean agreed, not very convinced though. “If it makes you feel better, son, I’ve known your guy longer than you, and that body language screams anxiety all over the room. If you two are doing something in particular after this breakfast, that’s what is getting on his nerves,” she finished and kissed Dean in the cheek, before walking to the table with the rest of the family.

Dean did the same, sitting beside Castiel and paying special attention to all his movements and expressions while they were eating. At some point in the meal Castiel took him by the hand beneath the table and Dean released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was still tense and out of his element, but Dean knew his mother was right and that eased him.

Although, Castiel muttered some nonsense from time to time that misplaced the other dining guests, calling Bobby a Lord twice in the same sentence, for instance. He wasn’t making any sense.

“Dean, did you drug him last night or something?” Ash asked with his usual outburst of honesty.

“You should not worry, Ashton. Dean didn’t insert any narcotics in me. My awkwardness is all natural,” was Castiel’s answer while biting his last piece of eggs and bacon. Dean turned on the bat-signal in his head and Ellen agreed muttering for them please to go and take some fresh air out of the house, while the others took care of their own businesses in the table.

Dean went to his bedroom to took the keys of the Impala, Castiel’s trenchcoat and both of their wallets and returned to the kitchen, where he made a sound to catch Castiel’s attention. When he did, Castiel turned pale and stood up, taking his things and practically running out of the house, without waiting for him or saying a word.

“Mmm…” Dean tried to the rest of the family who were looking at him completely mystified. “I’m sorry, don’t worry, everything is just fine. We will see you tonight. Please cook something cool mom. Like… something… abundant! Eh… See you!” he finished, knowing very well the others were thinking he had a screw loose, but caring nothing about that. He ran to the main door of the house, closing it behind him, only to discover Castiel was walking to the bakery already (where the Impala was parked) and he was a block away from Dean. “Shit!” he said and run to close the distance between them. “Cas! Cas!” he called but his boyfriend didn’t make an attempt to turn around. “What the hell, Cas? Cas!! Wait a minute,” he screamed while crossing the road. The blast of a car’s horn passing through made Dean realize he hadn’t even looked before doing that, but also woke Castiel from his current panic attack, so the consequences were balanced for Dean.   

“Dean! Are you alright?” Castiel asked running to him in worry. When they were finally in front of each other Dean nodded and Castiel sighed deeply, rubbing his hands against his face in frustration. “Sorry,” he said then, without stopping the rubbing until Dean took his hands aways with his own. “Please forgive me, I’m really sorry for embarrassing you…”

“You didn’t, Cas, it’s okay,” Dean replied. “Just tell me please what is happeni—”

“I’m nervous Dean, I’m extremely nervous and I don’t know how to manage it,” Castiel confessed. “When I woke up today I realized for real where we were going, and I lost all the self-confidence I thought I had. Then I went to drink some water and your mother appeared and asked me why I was not at the bakery, I didn’t know what to say… I’m not good at lying, Dean, but of course I didn’t want to betray you either so I did, and I told her you would take me to the zoo for our first date. I don’t even like zoos, I like freedom, free will, and still I said _zoo_. I don’t want to go to any zoo,” he concluded frustrated by his own choice of words, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He sat in the sidewalk, laughing like crazy, and took Castiel’s hand, moving him to sit beside him as well. “It’s not funny, Dean,” Castiel complained, placing himself close to Dean. “Ellen must be thinking I’m crazy right now, off my rocker, that you chose me wrongly, and to be honest it’s unlikely your brother will like me once he meets me, anyway, so that would make them two. I’m not a good match for you, I knew that…”

That’s when Dean stopped smiling and kneeled in order to be better placed in front of Castiel. “What are you saying? That’s the real reason, Cas? That you’re concerned Sam won’t approve of you?” he said and Castiel nodded. “Oh God, seriously Cas?“ Dean added, but all Castiel did was lower his eyes and say nothing else. Dean didn’t want to spoil how much Sam knew about Castiel, and how supportive he was about their relationship, but Dean tried to play the better cards he had at his disposal. “Cas, you have no idea what you’re saying. Sam already worships you as if you were an angel fallen from the sky who came here to save me…” Dean didn’t point out he believed that as well, because he didn’t want to be that corny at nine in the morning. Castiel raised his face, though, unconvinced, and Dean took the opportunity to place his hands in the base of Castiel’s neck, sweetly, and Castiel leaned into the touch. “When we talk on the phone he always asks how you are doing, sometimes he even does that before he asks about me,” he pointed out, pressing their foreheads together. Castiel rolled his eyes affectionately.

“That’s the main problem, Dean. All I have that remains of an angel is my name, and the wings I’ve drawn in the bakery’s wall along with the menu… Once he meets me he will realize I’m not as worshipable as you told him,” he replied.

“Oh c’mon, Cas, what is this? A competition to see who is the most self-destructive of the two of us?” Dean asked, crossing Castiel’s hair with one of his hands gently. “I’m sorry to tell you you wouldn’t beat me in that department so...” Dean added and paused. Castiel kept staring. “And if that happened, if Sam is blind enough not to like you as you suppose, the decision is still mine, and I would still choose to try and be your boyfriend, so he would have to deal with that. And by the way, I don’t believe in angels, even when my mother did, but I still think you have the soul of one, if that’s really a thing that exists.” And there he was, being as saccharine as he didn’t want to be five seconds ago. He kissed Castiel after his speech, though, because he always could surpass his own limits.

“Talking about angels, the other day I read about Michael, the Archangel. And call me crazy, but I remembered you: rightful, responsible, grumpy, worthful as any other...” Castiel remarked seconds later and Dean kissed him again, because… what other thing would he do? They were in the middle of the street, in front of everybody’s sight, but who the hell cared?

When they broke the kiss, Dean moved to his face to Castiel’s shoulder and his hands to his waist, in an inelegant embrace. “We were talking about angels but you kiss like hell, Cas,” Dean teased and Castiel chuckled, hugging him strongly. Dean didn’t know how much time they were in that position, until they were interrupted, as they had started to feel used to.

“We should arrest you for cuteness exhibitionism, don’t you think Mills?” the voice behind them said and both turned to see it was Donna and Jody, walking with two paper bags from Castiel’s bakery, each of them eating a chocolate donut. “When Charlie attended us and you were not around, but your car was, we thought you were making out in your office, Castiel, not out here, where’s it’s practically snowing.”

“What can we say? We like to experience new sensations,” Dean answered, and noticed Castiel’s chuckle in his ear. Donna and Jody made their own, and Dean couldn’t feel more proud of his faculties to make others laugh with the most stupid jokes. It was something he did a lot when he was younger. It was good to discover that was something unforgettable like riding a bike.

“Good for you, that keeps the flame alive,” Jody answered, already walking to the direction of the police station. “Only, please, get up right now if you don’t want to get the trots. It pains even me to see you there, and I’m not impressionable...” she said and disappeared, followed by her companion, who waved at them with her thumbs up, wishing them to have a nice day.

Dean got up and helped his boyfriend do the same, and their walk to the car went calmer after that. Castiel did not feel confident yet, Dean could see exactly that, but at least he was not running away from him, but taking his hand and walking at his side.

Castiel preferred to leave without entering to the bakery, since he knew if he did he would stay there for hours supervising things and Sam’s flight was supposed to arrive at noon.

“I don’t know how to calm my nerves down, Dean, I don’t want to regurgitate in your car, but my stomach is not in a good condition right now,” he said at some point of the journey and supported his head against the glove box.

“Jeez, Cas, if that’s happening when you’re meeting my brother, then what would happen to you if we got married?” Dean replied before he could think what he was saying and his vision blurred, probably for how red and hot his face turned. “Oh, sorry, I meant—”

“It’s okay, Dean, don’t blush. It is a plausible scenario, it can happen eventually. Answering your question, I would probably pass out,” Castiel replied without moving his head from its new comfortable home, but Dean’s colours didn’t lower.

“How do you know I’m blushing if you’re having a moment with my Baby’s drawer?” Dean asked, parking the car to the berm and opening all the nooks and crannies the Impala had. “I knew it!” he said later, taking out a little box. He leaned Castiel back to the seat and fixed his safety belt.

“Bubblegum, Dean?” Castiel asked when he saw what his boyfriend was offering him.

“Yes, take a pair,” he responded and handed Castiel the box. “It’s menthol. The other day I learned it’s a good analgesic, perhaps it works.” Castiel made an sceptical face. “I was watching _Discovery Home & Health_, they don’t lie. Chew,” he finished and Castiel complied. “Think about flowers and puppies, I don’t know, we have an hour’s journey,” Dean opened the drawer and saw all his old records. He took one randomly and handed it to Castiel. “I don’t usually do this, because drivers pick the music, but I’m making an exception for you and your tummy. Get fun,” he said and turned on the ignition again, looking at the mirror to see if he could return to the road.

“ _Hotel California_?” Castiel asked, putting one of the cassettes on the recorder.

Dean nodded. _“Such a lovely place, such a lovely face…”_ he sang and got the Impala moving.

Eagles sounded in high volume, Castiel chewing his gum while listening to the song with his eyes closed and Dean felt more content than ever before.

“I liked a phrase of that first song,” the baker said at some point when the album was over. _"We are all just prisoners here, of our own device,"_ he pointed out when Dean asked him to. “I think it is meaningful. I read once another one that said something like _the most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are_. It’s inspirational, just like this one,” he finished and started mixing the other cassettes, looking for a new one to replace the one they had just heard.

“That was Jim Morrison,” Dean remembered, captivated by Castiel’s memory.

“I have no idea who he is,” Castiel confessed, a little ashamed when Dean turned to see him with wide eyes. “I remember the phrase, but I’m not good with pop culture, you know that.”

“Look for The Doors, there must be something there,” he said, paying attention to the road, and when _The Changeling_ started playing Dean knew Castiel had chosen the best option at hand to learn about them. However, when _Love Her Madly_ had its turn, and Dean felt Castiel’s intense stare on him, he wished they were in an entirely different place. Naked under the stars, preferably.

At the time they arrived to the Kansas City Airport they were bickering about _‘A Night at the Opera’_ from Queen. Castiel insisted the album had the best portrayal of Dean’s character ever written in a song, but Dean disagreed.

“The bubblegum I gave you was totally expired,” Dean said when they left Starbucks with a pair of empty Venti cups (that Dean insisted were extremely inferior to Castiel’s ones at the bakery) and walked to the airport lounge to wait for Sam and Sarah. Castiel laughed at that and Dean fought the need to kiss him. Somehow he felt all roads lead to Rome as far as Castiel was concerned. Kisses, hugs, caresses… he was turning soft and he didn’t care.

“First of all, your remedy was useful since I’m not experiencing any need to throw up,” Castiel retorted teasingly. “And second, I think it does portray you amazingly. _I'm in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile_? That screams Dean Winchester in my opinion,” he finished, and elbowed Dean in the ribs. By instinct, Dean elbowed him back, and when Castiel slipped up, Dean took him by the waist and closed the distance between them to the point they were face to face in the middle of the lounge.

“I’m not in love with my car, precisely,” Dean said, and the stare contest didn’t fail to start. Castiel blushed reading the words that were being unsaid, but didn’t turn his face.

“Then with whom?” he asked back, because apparently he couldn’t help driving Dean for a confirmation. Dean felt not pressured by Castiel, however. He only wished time could pass faster, and they were completely free of unwanted family ties and debts, in order to speak those words.

“I won’t say the name, but his hair color is as black as my car,” Dean said instead surprising both Castiel and himself. Sometimes his mouth had a brain of his own.

“Dean!” Someone screamed from afar, and the accountant was saved by the bell. Clearly, it was Sam, whose hair had grown exponentially to the point of being offensive to Dean. Sam, whose long legs were giving strides a cheetah would be envious of. Sam, whose hand was attached to the one of a tall brunette that was trying to follow his running rhythm as much as possible. Sam, who didn’t care Dean had not released Castiel from his own embrace and hugged them both when they were finally face to face. Sam, whose long arms were able to squeeze Dean with love as strong as when they were kids.

When Sam parted, he returned his hand immediately to Sarah’s again, and Dean, that hadn’t let go on Cas in any second didn’t feel as mawkish as he thought he was before.

“Dean, you look…” Sam tried to say in order to break the ice, making some movements with his free hand as if they could explain better what he was trying to say than actual words.

“Older?” Dean joked, but Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Exactly the opposite!” Sam explained, overexcited for finally finding the words he wanted to say. “Fresher ...younger! I don’t know. You have no wrinkles anymore, Dean!”

Dean arched his eyebrows. “What the hell are you saying Sammy? I never had wrinkles!”

“Yes you did. Last time I came here, for instance,” Sam insisted. “They were not age wrinkles, they were stress wrinkles. It’s amazing to see they are not there anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” Dean replied, stubbornly, even when he knew Sam was probably right. “Moving to the important part of all this, let’s make the introductions so we can get out of here and have lunch.” Sam reacted to that phrase as well, admitting he didn’t remember the last time he heard Dean excited about a meal. Dean kept on talking. “Sammy, here in front of you is Castiel Novak, extraordinary baker and boyfriend.” There were confused faces from Sam and Sarah but Dean went on. “Cas, here’s Sammy, my baby brother. And I suppose you’re Sarah,” he added, turning to the woman besides Sam, who nodded, still astonished. “Since Sam is having a seizure or something I will make the introductions myself. Dean Winchester, Castiel Novak, your brothers in law.” Dean hugged her politely and she hugged back.

Sam, on the other hand, was still gobsmacked. He looked at Castiel and opened his mouth, closing it repeatedly. “ _Boyfriend_ , you said?” he asked, doubtful. Dean turned to look at him, with his brows frowned. “Already? Seriously?” Sam asked again, and Dean wondered who the hell was possessing him to be such an asshole party pooper. He turned to look at Castiel, worried about his reaction to Sam’s questions, and the baker was effectively paler than a marshmallow.

Dean’s warning sign turned on in his brain. “Dude, Sammy, what the hel—?” he tried, but Sam, completely oblivious of Dean’s irritation interrupted him throwing his long body on Castiel for a whole new embrace. He was laughing like a kid, and raised the baker up more than once.

“Finally you had the balls to tell him to be your boyfriend! I cannot believe it! Congratulations!” Sam repeated again and again, until he realized the hug wasn’t being returned and broke it to look at Castiel. “Why are you so pale?” he asked, and Dean answered him with a punch in his arm, that made Sam groan.

“Next time you want to express your gratitude to someone please try not to kill them with your words first,” Dean said, getting close to Castiel, and taking him by the waist. Sam made a face, perplexed, and Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas here was worried you wouldn’t accept him,” he pointed out and squeezed his boyfriend, “so your _‘seriously’_ and _‘already’_ made him shit his pants.”

“I didn’t defecate, Dean,” Castiel tried, in a whisper, and turned to look at the youngest Winchester, who was looking back embarrassed.

“It was not my intention, I’m so sorry,” he said. “You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you, it’s an honor, Castiel. Dean had talked a lot about you over the phone, and nothing more than cool stuff. I had to be crazy not to accept you,” he continued. Castiel gave Dean a sidelong glance and Dean returned it with a smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Castiel replied, and Dean noticed how his body was starting to feel less tensed. It was a good thing.

Castiel looked relaxed with every passing minute, and Dean heard him talk with Sarah once they started walking together to the car.

“Sorry for Sam, he was looking forward to meeting you, and he can be intense when he is anxious. It’s my first time meeting Dean as well, so don’t feel alone,” she said, with a supportive tone.

“Thanks. You will love Dean, he is a remarkable human being” Castiel replied sincerely, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. It was more than good. Life was being pretty generous with him.

“Did you tell him that you loved him too?” Sam murmured suddenly, in the parking lot. It looked as if he had the question in the tip of his tongue since the beginning and he couldn’t wait any longer.

“I didn’t. Shaddap, Sammy,” Dean replied, even quieter, looking in panic at Castiel and Sarah. Thankfully there were steps behind, completely absorbed in their own conversation.

“You told me you would ask him to be your boyfriend after this whole mess was over, so—”

“I couldn’t wait any longer, alright?” Dean answered bewildered and Sam chuckled while taking the car’s handle. “Won’t you ride shotgun?” Dean asked when he saw Sam was waiting at the back door.

“It’s not my place to take anymore,” Sam replied simply and waited to help Sarah in before him. Her belly was still not big but Sam had always being a gentleman. “Every one with their own couple,” he insisted at Castiel when he told him to sit besides Dean, and gave no place to keep on going. “I have my princess in the back seat, you have yours at the front,” Sam added, when they were all placed inside the car. Castiel and Sarah laughed while Dean turned around to look at him, fakely offended.

“Hey,” he warned. “I’m eating all your french fries in revenge,” he added and turned on the engine, starting the way back at Overland Park.

It was a pleasant journey. And if Castiel still had some doubts rooting inside him about his acceptance, they didn’t last long. Dean saw him enjoying the conversations, joining every single topic they started, and finding every shared hobby with a smile in his face.

He even plotted with Sam against Dean when he put _Slippery When Wet_ in the cassette player. Dean groaned in frustration and both burst into laughter.

“You told me Bon Jovi rocked!” Sam complained cheekily.

“Only on occasion!” Dean replied and everybody laughed, including Sarah.

They went to have lunch to a burger restaurant in Kansas City, because Sarah felt famished (her words) and Castiel confessed eating burgers made him happy. Sam complained for a while, but when he read the menu and discovered there were plenty of salad options as well he said nothing else.

Dean enjoyed the meal plenty. After all, he was not only reconnecting with Sam, in person, but also getting to know Sarah better; and seeing how good she was for his brother, how intelligent and down to earth she sounded, made Dean feel in peace.

As long as Castiel was concerned, Dean couldn’t feel prouder of him. He talked openly with both, joking around, sharing anecdotes, and Dean was surer than ever about the decisions he had taken. Sandover could go to hell. He was smart. He could find any job he wanted, and be successful whatever clothes he wore, whatever car he drove, whatever boyfriend he chose.

Wandering in thoughts of a good future and big family he didn’t realise the conversation at the table turned into something nerdy in a blink and the three of them were discussing about Shakespeare. “What the hell?” he asked suddenly and Sam arched his eyebrow as if he couldn’t understand why he had interrupted their agitated debate.

“That’s what I’m saying! What the hell, Sam? Macbeth is more consistent as a play, darker and realer than Romeo and Juliet. That’s all,” Sarah said, sounding offended.

“You’re out of your mind, Sarah! Macbeth has trees that walk!” Sam answered, exasperated.

“I don’t want to take any side, but in honor of the truth, that’s an allegory,” Castiel pointed out, not ashamed in the slightest.

“It can be, Castiel, but witches aren’t,” Sam insisted, and took a mouthful of lettuce and tomato. Sarah rolled her eyes and kept on eating.

Castiel chose to look at Dean. “What do you think?” he asked, interested, and offered Dean his french fries. Dean had already eaten them all.

“In my opinion Romeo and Juliet sucks. And to be honest, I’ve always thought Sam would never meet someone as nerdy as him, but I was wrong,” Dean replied and got closer to his boyfriend, so they could share the plate. Castiel chuckled at the remark. “Welcome to the family, Sarah,” he said and raised his glass.

Sarah smiled, looking a little embarrassed, and raised her glass as well.

“I’ve never thought Dean would meet someone as passionate as him, but I was wrong as well,” Sam mentioned when he raised his and looked at Castiel. “Welcome to our family, you too,” he added and smiled when Castiel nodded at him.

“It’s a pleasure,” Castiel muttered, blushing.

“It really is! This family is really diverse,” Sarah replied after cleaning her mouth with a napkin. “We can talk about laws and numbers, food and art. I’m personally loving it,” she added, in passing.

Dean felt Castiel tensing besides him. “Laws?” he asked. “Who knows about laws?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Dean asked, confused. He honestly remembered mentioning it to him at least once. “Sammy is a lawyer, he left Kansas to study at Stanford, and he—”

“Yes, I know, I just didn’t remember he was…” Castiel replied, staring at Dean with a new expression on his face. Was it hope? Dean couldn’t tell, but he liked how it looked in him. “Congratulations, Sam. It requires intelligence and determination equally, which are remarkable features for a young man like you.”

“I’m not _that_ young, Castiel. I’m twenty seven. But thanks,” Sam replied, and Dean felt Castiel closing the distance between them, to the point they were touching from shoulders to knees. Dean pushed his luck and took Castiel by the waist, in a hug. Castiel responded positively, giving Dean a kiss in the cheek, and joining their free hands together. They didn’t move from that position for the rest of the meeting.

Dean was over the moon, and not even Sam’s teases and jokes after they left Sarah and Castiel behind were enough for him to land.

“Earth to Dean, Earth to Dean!” Sam joked when they were left alone in the Impala and Sam was finally driving shotgun. “Oh, God, if you could look at your face! It’s worse I’ve imagined! You’re so far gone for each other it was impossible to separate you just seconds ago.”

And Dean couldn’t say that was a lie. When he arrived at the bakery, with Sarah insisting she wanted to meet it and Sam insisting he wanted to visit _'some other places'_ with his brother (he couldn’t look for a better excuse, for the love of God!) they decided to split into two groups.

Sarah was happy to share her day with Castiel, since they became instant friends, and Castiel was excited on the prospect of hiding Sarah from Dean’s family until they closed the bakery and told them all they had come to visit; but when it was time to say goodbye to Dean, after almost two weeks of spending practically all their time together, it was not easy for neither of them.

“We will meet at night,” Dean had tried, even when he was not convinced of the excuse either. They were already at the bakery’s door, with Sarah at the counter, whispering and giggling with Charlie (instant friends as well, apparently), and Sam hidden uncomfortably at the back of the car in order not to be seen by anyone.

“Yes, I know, it’s just… tomorrow…” Castiel had tried, blushing a little and looking everywhere but Dean. He took Castiel in the face, gently, in such a way Castiel couldn’t avoid his eyes anymore and was finally staring back.

“Stop worrying about tomorrow, you’re thinking too much,” Dean had replied, tempted to blurt it all, to explain him how hard he was working to save them both for future misfortunes and problems, to tell him how much he loved him. “Yeah, I will come back to the office, but I promise I will make it up for you once I finish there. I promise,” he had repeated, as an oath for them both. “I will bake a chocolate ganache tart for you, is that good? What do you think?” Dean had teased and Castiel smiled.

“When did you learn to bake that? I didn’t see you—”

“Mmm, that's a secret,” Dean had answered, cheekily. “You can’t imagine how much I’m capable of doing for the people I care about,” he had added, more serious, talking about the tart, and everything else.

Castiel should had read something in Dean’s expression, because he leaned in and kissed him sweetly. “I can see you’re plotting something,” he had murmured when they parted, “and for whatever reason you don’t want to share it with me. But there’s something I know for sure, and that’s that you’re a righteous man, Dean, the most righteous man I’ve ever met, and I couldn’t feel prouder of you,” he had finished, swallowing hard.

Dean couldn’t resist any longer, and kissed him again, with all his strength. He knew Sarah and Sam were probably watching, but who cared? All that mattered to Dean at that point was that, if they were lucky, in less than a day everything would be solved.

“That kiss you gave him when you parted… I thought I was watching a romantic movie,  with Brad Pitt and Matt Bomer, or something,” Sam teased when Dean turned to Riley Street, and the older Winchester rolled his eyes. “I know you think I’m mocking you, but it’s not like that… it’s just I’ve never seen you like that, and it makes me happy.”

Dean stayed silent for a couple of blocks. “He suspects I’m doing something,” he said, changing the subject a little. “And he is sad I have to come back to Sandover tomorrow. He likes me there in the bakery.”

“Do you like yourself there in the bakery too?” Sam asked when Dean braked in front of Gabriel’s house. None of them made an attempt to get out of the car, Dean’s hands grabbing the steering wheel strongly and considering his answer.

“Baking is not my vocation, if that’s what you’re asking here,” Dean replied gravelly. “But I’m enjoying the job plenty. I’ve loved these days there, not only because of Cas. Yeah, having him around is priceless to me, but I like dealing with people, and having fun with the guys... I want to keep working as an accountant, of course. But I want to be there as well.” He paused. “I’ve thought about this, basically every night for the last couple of weeks. And I’ve decided I will be my own person from now on, _Free As A Bird_. I will be my own boss,” he finished. Sam looked at him with a smile in his face, as if he was as proud as Castiel was of him.

“Will you be all day in your car, Winchester, or we can start working?” they heard someone from outside yelling, in a tone that sounded bewilder.

Dean looked at his right, only to find Gabriel, dressed in jeans and a green sweater. He looked extremely pissed. Dean waved at him, and Gabriel answered him with a small nod. Taking into account their relationship was still rocky, his gesture was a progress.

Both brothers got out of the car at the same time and walked to Castiel’s cousin. With every step they made, Gabriel looked angrier and angrier. Dean was sure he didn’t do a thing to him to be the recipient of such a wrath, but with Gabriel everything was a surprise.

“Why couldn’t you just suggest another person? No, you had to say _Bela Talbot_ ,” he said when Dean and Sam were face to face with him. Dean arched his brows in response. “She is already inside, and she couldn’t drive me more insane than she does.”

“What could she be doing, anyway? Sharing anecdotes about you with Kali, laughing together?” Dean joked and when Gabriel didn’t say a thing but stared at him with murderous eyes, he blushed. “Oh, sorry…” he tried but when Gabriel didn’t respond he pointed at Sam. “Sam, let me present you to Gabriel Sandover, Castiel’s cousin. Gabriel, he’s Sam, the brother I’ve told you about,” he said and finally Gabriel stopped looking at him.

Gabriel turned his head to Sam looking at him from head to toes, twice. “You look nothing like your brother,” he said, resting his back against the door. “You’re like Rocky and Bullwinkle, the squirrel and the moose,” he pointed out in passing and Sam celebrated the joke with a sincere laugh. Dean wasn’t so sure he liked the fact Sam enjoyed Gabriel’s humour. “Jokes aside, it’s a pleasure,” he said, lightening his features and offering Sam a hand to shake. Sam did.

“If Miss Talbot is already there I would prefer telling you two something first,” Sam started, the joke forgotten, a serious expression in his face. “I’ve read all the information Dean gave me on the plane, and made Sarah read them as well. Whoever gave you that, Dean, they were lucky,” Sam explained to his brother and Dean nodded. He couldn’t feel more thankful of Kevin and Claire. He was in debt with them, even if a little angry. “We have an interesting mixture of felonies in those files. We can start with them cutting trees in public areas without the municipal authorizations, which is a crime by itself, but could also generate a big enough fuzz if it’s released in TV. Although, it’s the lightest of them all. There are various conversations between Zachariah, or your boss Crowley even, and some contacts I’ve discovered are acquaintances or employees of Dick Roman. It looks Sandover has a partnership of some kind with Richard Roman Enterprises, pursuing dirty business together,” he said and Dean froze. It was a public secret in the industry that Roman was involved in all kind of scams and profiteering. Dean couldn’t believe he had devoted so much time in his life working for someone as corrupted as him. “The thing is, yeah, your brother’s company is seriously exposed with these documents,” Sam continued, looking at Gabriel, “but so is Castiel. You know, he has shares there, even when he doesn’t want to recognize or use them, and if the company broke, he would face some consequences as well. Misappropriation of funds in between other minor crimes, it’s not a joke.”

“If the company faced public charges it would mean more debts for my cousin,” Gabriel added, in a grave tone, and Sam nodded.

“Bigger ones, in fact,” Sam replied. “So I would suggest for Miss Talbot to know nothing in particular about this, otherwise she wo—”

“She would spew it all out on her tv show. I know her, she’s spiteful. She would,” Gabriel finished and Dean remained silent. “What do you suggest us to do, then?”

“We can tell her about the environmental issue and leave the rest only for us,” Sam replied. “For her, it will be juicy enough, and for us not extremely dangerous.” Gabriel nodded and Dean as well. “Although, after we get what we want from Zachariah I strongly suggest for Castiel to sell his share of the company. I could write a document justifying the sale saying Castiel is solvent by his own and he never had a thing to do with Sandover’s businesses. If Zachariah is smart, he would sign it along with the rest, and Castiel would be clear if someone else finds out about Zachariah’s crimes.”

“And if he doesn't want to sig—” Dean started by Gabriel interrupted him.

“He will,” he said. “He may be as miser as my mother, but he would never let his business ruin completely or face a scandal of public proportions for an amount of a couple of years he has to reward to Castiel.”

“And you, Dean? What have you thought for you?” Sam asked, changing his attention to him. If he was honest, Dean had not thought about himself. All in his mind was Castiel, and he expressed exactly that to the other men.

Gabriel looked at him weirdly. “Didn’t you think about yourself?” he asked in a serious tone and Dean confirmed it. Gabriel raised his eyebrows and said nothing else.

“Why are you looking at me like this, Sam? It’s not like it’s complicated!” Dean reacted to Sam’s severe gaze. “I will resign and that’s all. What more do you want me to do? To dance the Macarena in front of the prick?”

“If you danced the Macarena, at least, you’d give them another reason to fire you, it’s not a bad idea,” Gabriel said to Dean, with a smirk. Dean replied with a smile of his own.

“Have they always paid you properly?” Sam asked. “On term, salaries correctly liquidated?” Dean nodded. “How many hours a day?” Sam insisted and Dean groaned. “Seriously Dean, how many hours did they pay you by day?”

“I don’t know, Sam, don’t be dense!” Dean replied. “I spent the whole day at the place. I was always the first one arriving and the last one leaving, I haven’t scheduled all my days there,” he finished and Sam analysed the answer in silence.

“Do you clock in?” he asked and Dean sighed deeply, confirming it.

“For an accountant, you’re really forgetful,” Gabriel teased.

“I’m not _forgetful_ ,” Dean replied. “I was just too much devoted to a job that didn’t deserve me, apparently. I went there to work and be promoted, I didn’t think about time, or how much life I was losing on it,” he added and Sam smiled at the answer.

“We will make something with you as well. You won’t resign, they will fire you.” Sam said. “You’ve been working there sun-up to sundown, if they didn’t pay you more than eight hours a day they will have to. And the severance pay, of course.”

“You’re getting ambitious,” Dean joked and Sam chuckled.

“You’re my brother, of course I would act like that for you.”

“It’s an emotional exchange and everything, but we could work on that and hug all together once we have dealt with Bela, just saying. Sit in a couch, drinking coffee, eating some cookies… I’m freezing here.” Gabriel opened the door of his house and Sam said nothing to complain, scrubbing his hands.

“It cannot be that bad. Bela, I mean. You’re exaggerating,” Dean tried while walking inside but once they got there he heard her overexcited laugh and stared at Gabriel, defeated.

“That’s nothing, Dean-o. Wait until you see her clothes. She’s Cruella de Vil.” Gabriel said, and he was not wrong. She was wearing a black and red dress, that fit her body perfectly, and a big white mink by her side Dean prayed to be faux. In Bela´s favour, she was hotter than the cartoon, and probably she didn’t kill dalmatian puppies either.

“Oh, Gabriel, you came back!” She said. “I was having real fun with your lovely wife,” she looked at Kali, who didn’t look as amused as assumed.

“Her anecdotes about Gabriel ended being funny after the third one,” she muttered to Dean. “I’m only standing her because of you,” she added, and Dean felt his stomach constricting, a little responsible for everything that was happening at that moment.

“Oh God, who are these handsome men?” Bela yelled, and she sounded weirdly excited. Dean didn’t like her. “Don’t be rude, introduce us! I would totally have se—”

“They are Dean and Sam Winchester,” Gabriel interrupted, with a grave voice. “ And hope you remember there’s a kid in this house, so be respectful,” Gabriel warned, and Dean noticed an angry blush in his face, that was getting redder and redder with every passing second. Well, Dean and Gabriel discovered their first in common thing.

Bela looked at Gabriel, puzzled. “What kid? Oh,” she realized, seconds later. “Your kid, I forgot. To be honest… I couldn’t care less about kids,” he whispered to Dean, putting one of her hands by the mouth.

“I’m sorry for you,” Dean replied, shrugging his shoulders, and went to pick Mary up, who appeared by the door of the kitchen and waved at him, immediately recognizing Dean. “Hello, princess, how are you doing?” he asked and the girl answered with a hug and telling him she was colouring cats.

Bela made a face of disgust and looked at Gabriel. “Can we start? I need to be at the tv station in a couple of hours,” she said, winking at Sam, who remained undaunted.

The youngest Winchester took the time to explain her all they wanted her to know and do, showing her some documents, and regulations that forbid the activities exposed by them. Dean looked at him full of pride, while explaining it all. Sam was smart and meticulous, and indomitable when he wanted to fight for something or someone he loved. Castiel couldn’t have a better lawyer.

“So, if I’m understanding clearly, do you want me to publish this on my show?” Bela asked, with her eyes full of something Dean couldn’t recall completely. Was it exhilaration? Was it thirst of revenge? He wasn’t sure. “Just like that?” she added and Sam nodded.

“It’s all yours if you want to use it, whatever if you want to publish it or not. That’s, clearly, if you help us first,” Sam answered, giving her no chance to misunderstand his words.

“So, the truth is you need me to put pressure on them because I’m a public figure,” she guessed and Gabriel confirmed it. “You are trying to use me, then,” she added, changing her tone a little. She sounded darker, all of a sudden, and Dean didn’t like it.

“We’re not using you, Bela. We’re paying for your services,” Gabriel said and Bela looked at him sideways, chuckling with hostility.

“You think I’m stupid, Gabriel? That exclusive you gave me is great by its own, but is not enough to make Zachariah Sandover sign all those papers you want him to sign, with or without me,” she explained and Dean tensed. It was all too good to be true. “You must have something else hidden, and I want to know it too,” she added, brushing the curls of her hair with her fingers.

Dean started sweating profusely, even with how cold the day was outside, and looked at Gabriel and Sam to see their reactions. They were both visibly nervous, and Dean shook his head to both when they saw him. “We are not sharing any more information with you,” he said, firmly. Mary, who was still up in his arms playing with a doll turned to look at him, apparently surprised by the the tone of his voice.

Bela looked unaffected, though. “Perfect. So you are not going to be able to ask for my services at all,” she replied, apathetic. “I don’t work for your leftovers, my darling. I procure unique information to my viewers.”

“You’re a gutter,” Dean said and Bela laughed.

“No, you’re wrong. I’m a _great_ gutter,” she answered. “And all your story about the poor cousin in disguise whose boyfriend wants to save from his despicable family is really poignant and emotional, but you won’t manipulate me with that. I don’t believe in love.”

“And what do you believe in?”

“In money and power,” she replied naturally. “Give me any and I will be yours.”

“That’s how Crowley kept you by his side all these years?” Gabriel asked, visibly irritated.

“Yes, until he took my car from me to give it to his wife, how rude is that?” she replied, and Gabriel rolled his eyes at her.

“It was not yours if the car’s owner was Crowley,” he said.

“It was mine, shut up,” she replied simply, and turned to look at Dean. “That’s it, for instance. Give me enough money to buy a new car, and the exclusive, and I’m part of your team,” she said and even when Gabriel and Sam were complaining in the background, all her attention was focused in Dean. Somehow in the middle of the negotiation she realized Dean was the most hot-headed of them all.

“How do you sleep at night?” Dean asked instead, and Bela chuckled.

“In silk sheets, rolling naked in money people like you gave me,” she answered insolently. Dean wished he could send her to hell, but sadly he was the one at a disadvantage.

“What car did you have?” he replied, Sam warning him at the other side of the room. Dean paid him no attention.

Bela raised her left eyebrow, interested. “It was a red Camry,” she said, Sam still making noises behind she was not paying attention to either. “But I’m open to options,” she finished, enjoying every second of the conversation.

“What about a silver Prius? Would that be enough for you?” Dean replied and this time it was Gabriel the one reacting at Dean’s idea. Even Kali, who was watching the scene by the kitchen door looked surprised. “Yes, I’m _awarding her a car_ , Gabriel,” Dean replied to him, paraphrasing his question. “It’s the only option I have at hand, and anyway, that car doesn’t mean a thing to me. If a Prius means we can stop this whole thing faster and Cas is free, I’m happily lending it.”

Bela looked at him stupefied. “I cannot believe you, darling. Who would waste such a car for so little? You’re an idiot,” she said.

“I’m not an idiot. It’s just that my priorities are different than yours,” Dean replied.  

Clearly they were, since after hours of negotiating and plotting together, even more after Bela left the house, all Dean wanted to do was meeting Castiel again and having dinner with him and the rest of the family. He was not wrong, clearly his priorities had changed, since when he finally did both, he felt he couldn’t be happier.

Sam and Sarah were received with multiple hugs, yells of excitement, and tears. Tons of tears. Dean didn’t remember the last time he saw Bobby cry like that, but clearly he will remember his face when he saw Sam across the door that day. It was so full of love and gratitude Dean thought he would have cried a little bit too. It was fairless of him to think like that, but Dean couldn’t help thinking he’d never seen his real father reacting with such an emotion when they met after months of absence at Bobby’s house. Probably it was just that John went through too much and couldn’t express love as good as he used to, but the difference was still impossible to deny.

“If I’m honest, I think Bobby has always been our dad, you know?” he told Castiel when they were alone, tangled together in the sofa at the living room (that day they left Dean’s room to Sarah and Sam, she was in no condition to sleep in a couch). Castiel stayed quiet, brushing Dean’s hair, something Dean liked him a lot to do. “After our mom died, he was the one that took us to play football with him, that bought us ice-cream, that congratulated us when he did good at school…” Dean sighed. “I remember a particular day I was excited because I’d passed a Maths exam and went to my house running, I needed to tell dad. Unfortunately, he was in bed, completely drunk and when I tried to wake him up, he told me to leave him alone… I finished telling him two weeks later. Bobby, instead, hugged me, then gifted me my first calculator. It rocked, it was scientific and all… but it was not for the present, I didn’t care about that. It was the gesture… he may not be one to use terms of endearment, but he makes you feel important in his own way,” he finished, and put his head on Castiel’s neck. “I love my dad, but he never did that.” Castiel perked him in the forehead and made their embrace a little stronger. “I feel guilty for thinking like that, though.”

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel said. “Neither your father’s. We all have our own issues to deal with, and some people can manage them better than others. It doesn’t necessarily mean they want to act like that, or that they feel the way they act. It’s just they cannot make it work in another way.” He placed himself a little better on the couch so he and Dean were looking at each other in the dark. Dean loved those moments, only the moonlight lighting up their features. It was intimate, and somehow magical. He didn’t imagine being in love could feel like that. “Your father loved you, I’m sure about that. He failed in showing you how much, but Bobby can do that in his place.”

Dean leaned in and kissed him. “You’re so smart...” he said in a whisper.

Castiel smiled. “Thanks Dean, but intelligence is, if anything, my weakest feature,” he replied. “After all, it was my lack of intelligence what drove me to where I am right now, and it misguided me in every bad decision I’ve taken up to this moment.”

“You only need help, Cas.”

“I need a miracle,” Castiel replied, and sighed. “I think we’ve had this exact exchange some weeks ago.”

“Yes, at the bakery,” Dean confirmed. “In our first date ever.” Castiel laughed quietly at Dean’s remark. “Don’t you think it was? I do! You and me, sitting on the floor, eating sandwiches and cake, talking about our shitty childhoods, and our lonely dinners… it was a perfect date in my books.”

“We didn’t kiss that day,” Castiel remarked.

“But we did later,” Dean replied. “And I never spent another dinner alone again…”

“Me neither,” Castiel added, and kissed Dean with everything he had. It was a frenzied kiss and still gentle, and not for the first time that night Dean had wished they were somewhere else where nobody could interrupt them...

“Oh God, you look so cute together!” someone said from the other side of the living room and made Dean and Castiel jump. Once again, interrupted in the middle of something.

That time it was Jo, with a glass of water in her hand, dressed in her pyjamas, barely worried she had almost made his brother fall from the couch.

“C’mon Jo, we are trying to have a moment here!” Dean complained, with Castiel under him giggling like a kid. Jo was indifferent to Dean’s rant, still looking at them with a smile. “I don’t go to your bedroom to see you make out with your mullet boyfriend!” he said

“It’s because my bedroom is not in the middle of the house! It’s not my fault you chose to sleep here or that I’m thirsty!” Jo replied cheekily and walked to the couch. When she was next to it, she bent down and took both guys by the hand. “I’m really happy about you two. The whole family is,” she leaned in to their joined hands and kissed each before standing up again. “Sweet dreams,” she said and disappeared in the hallway.

Dean saw her go and then turned to Castiel. “You’re already accepted by the family, that’s a plus,” he joked and Castiel took him by the neck, in an embrace.

“I wish I could say the same about mine,” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear, making him shiver.

“With Gabriel, we are getting better,” Dean said, before he could help it. Castiel arched his head in such a way they were staring each other again, with a weird expression in the face. “I’m not lying, Cas. We are getting there,” he repeated but Castiel expression didn’t change. “We had a good conversation yesterday. I’m optimist.”

“Conversation about what?” Castiel asked, wary.

“About you, and me, and our relationship, my relationship with him even… and other stuff you know I won’t tell yet,” Dean replied in a quiet tone,

Castiel leaned his head against the couch arm and sighed. It sounded hurt, and Dean didn’t like it. “Why?” he asked, simply, and Dean thought for some seconds what to answer.

“I’ve told you, I’m waiting until it’s over,” Dean said.

“Do you understand you’re not doing me any favour keeping things in the dark from me like this?” Castiel asked quietly, watching Dean with severe eyes. “All my life I’ve been treated like that. Everybody made decisions for me: about my childhood house, my father’s funeral, my work, how I should or shouldn’t use my share in Sandover,” he said, not realizing he hadn’t still told Dean about that. “I loved my grandmother, plenty, but she did that a lot to me… I don’t want you to follow her steps.”

Dean stayed silent for a couple of minutes. Castiel did as well, so when Dean finally replied he thought the baker would not hear him. “I just want to give you a surprise.”

Castiel moved his hand to Dean’s face, tracing circles sweetly on Dean’s cheek. “And I’m grateful, but I want to be consulted first. I’m not a broken toy.”

“I know you aren’t,” Dean replied, taking the blanket and placing it better above them. “And probably is a little late already to consult you,” Castiel wanted to interrupt but Dean kept on talking. “Cas, let me. Perhaps it’s late to ask you for permission right now but I promise you tomorrow I will tell you all. Whatever if I make the whole thing work or not… just, let me try, at least. I really want to surprise you.”

Castiel said nothing for a while, but kept on caressing his boyfriend’s face. Dean knew by that Castiel was not pissed at him. At least at that moment.

“Dean, I’m not worth any risk—”

“You’re worth all risks,” Dean interrupted and Castiel stared at him, breathing irregularly. “If you want to be consulted, however, I could ask you this: do you want to be happy and free?” he asked and Castiel furrowed. He knew Castiel rooted for free will, he’d told him more than once. When Castiel nodded, after he asked him again, Dean perked him in the lips. “Then, please wish me luck.”


	10. Angel Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a traditional cake originated in the United Kingdom, spoongy and with several layers. Check the recipe [here](http://www.food.com/recipe/angel-food-cake-homemade-12591).

The next morning was a weird one for Dean.

It had nothing to do with the fact he got up at five in the morning, since that was something he got used to doing in the last couple of weeks, and much less with the fact he woke up in a couch with Castiel’s arms around his waist and his head against his chest, because it was something already as normal as his weird new schedule.

It was weird mostly because of the tachycardia he was feelings in his chest in regards of the upcoming events of that day. He was extremely nervous, and Castiel, who was the only one awake apart from him, was able to see it.

“Are you feeling well, Dean?” he asked, visibly worried. “You look nervous.”

“I _am_ nervous, Cas,” Dean confirmed, putting peanut butter in his toast. When he raised his head and Castiel was still looking at him with a worried expression in his face. “It’s not that dramatic, Cas, I don’t know what you’re worrying that much…”

“Maybe it’s because you’re planning to do something for me, something you don’t want to talk about with me no matter how much I ask you to, and I’m feeling really bad about it?” he asked and stopped drinking his coffee. He stood up and picked all his stuff from the table, in silence. When Dean asked him what he was doing, Castiel didn’t turned around and kept on cleaning his dishes. “Don’t worry about me, go to your apartment and get prepared for your workday, I will go to the bakery by foot,” he said and even when Dean reacted immediately and tried to persuade him, Castiel left the house ten minutes later alone and cheesed off.

“Problems in paradise?” Sam asked, yawning.

“He knows I’m doing something, he only doesn’t know what.” Dean sighed, in evident pain. “At least he kissed me before leaving…”

“I don’t want to be that person, Dead, but I told you so.” Sam took the coffee pot and served one for him. “I told you please to explain him what you were doing and you—”

“I know, Sam,” Dean said, defeated. “I just wanted to separate him from any problem. I don’t want him to get involved in something that could make him feel worried.”

“I understand, still, it’s his own life what you’re talking about. You cannot alienate him from that, don’t you think?” Sam asked. Dean said nothing. “Anyway, it’s logical. You make horrible decisions, he makes horrible decisions, the two of you attract each other and fall in love. It’s like you were destined for be.”

“Fuck you, Sammy,” Dean answered, amused by the remark. “What should I do to make it better? I don’t want him to be angry with me, even less today… today is a big day.”

“Let it be, the mistake is done,” Sam said, eating quietly his toast with strawberry jam. Of course he was quiet, he was not the one with the love problem. “Let him think through it. He won’t be as angry as he is right now at night. I promise.”

All promises Sam made to him were pointless, anyway, since all Dean wanted to do after that was talking to Castiel and say _sorry_ , even more than before. Sorry for being impulsive. Sorry for making stuff without telling you. Sorry for not being different than the rest who did the same. Sorry for being an asshole who was never in love before.

When he arrive to the apartment, after his stop at the supermarket, he found dust everywhere. It was not weird, taking into account all Dean did in his house lately was sleeping, when he didn’t sleep at Bobby’s house. Even like that, finding his kitchen that messy and disorganized hit him with the force of a thousand suns. Probably it was abrupt, but that was not his house anymore. If it ever was.

Thinking in a lot of different consequences of what would be happening that day he cleaned the kitchen counter and started preparing the ganache. In a moment of distraction he opened the fridge to see if there was something to drink. He only found rotten carrots and milk. Thanks God he bought all he needed for the tart. That was clearly not his house anymore, just a place to stay.

Baking the tart was not as difficult as he thought it would, Benny was a good teacher, and probably Dean a good pupil. Although, the fact of Castiel being angry with him blurred his mind every two seconds, and he couldn’t refrain from taking the phone and dialing the bakery’s number. He just needed to talk with Castiel and fixed his mistake.

Every ring was torture, until he heard a voice he didn’t think he would. “ _A Little Slice of Heaven_ , my name is Benny. What can I do for you?”

“Benny? Why the hell are you picking up the phone?” Dean said before he could help it.

Benny sighed, recognizing Dean. “I’m dealing with customers at the counter instead of Castiel, brother. He wanted to bake himself today. He does that when he is frustrated about something and wants to be left alone, so I didn’t deny him the chance… he is the boss, after all. I don’t want him to lecture me.”

“He wouldn’t…” Dean replied quietly.

“Sometimes he does,” Benny replied cheekily while Dean opened the oven to check on the tart. “To be honest, I suppose he’s thwart at you, because he mentioned your name a couple times when he hit doughs at the counter. I heard him,” he said and Dean’s heart raced in his chest. “By any chance, did you tell him what you’re trying to do?”

“Nope, and that’s the problem, you know… he suspects it,” Dean sighed, downcasted. “I understand he wants to know and everything, but I won’t tell him. I don’t want him to get worried or get too much excited in vain…”

“Well, he is _angry in vain_ I suppose,” Benny replied and moved the phone away from his mouth to tell a customer he was with them in a second. “I have to go, Dean. If you want me to advise you, I suggest you to tell him something. You don’t want to tell him in detail, sure, I get it. But tell him _something_. Don’t let him out like that. I understand him feeling like shit. It’s his life, after all. Good luck!”

Well, that was the second person telling him the same in less than three hours. Probably they had a point.

He finished the ganache (proud of how it smelt) and looked at the kitchen clock. It was more than ten in the morning. He should be at the office by now, but he decided against it. The point was executing the plan close to when Bela’s show at Kansas News was programmed to start, so spending the whole morning inside Sandover seeing their faces and breathing the same air as fucking Bartholomew, in between others, was something Dean was not able to do. Nobody called him from the office either, perhaps the feeling was mutual.

He went to have a bath instead and regain a little of the confidence he lost when he parted ways with Castiel hours earlier. When he arrived to his bedroom, and looked at it he wished he could add a little touch of color on its walls, a Led Zeppelin poster here, or a Metallica one there... The room felt so impersonal and… white. Dean didn’t understand how he spent so much time there without changing its look. His wardrobe was not different, with tens of jackets and pants that looked exactly the same with one another, except for the fact one was had a Gucci label and the other a Ralph Lauren one. Dean though he was an idiot. He could had spent all that money in buying Star Wars collector editions or something nerdily similar, and still there he was, surrounded by pieces of fabric that had nothing to do with him…

Dean chose the simplest suit of them all and left the house. If he was lucky enough, he would come back to take the ganache and some casual clothes, so he could meet Castiel again and talk with him. Once in the Impala, he turned on the engine and stayed quiet. Where would he go now? It was almost noon, he still had no intentions to go to Sandover, and they were supposed to meet at Gabriel’s house at two. The bakery or Bobby’s shop were no options at that moment… perhaps he could go to McDonalds and try a Big Mac for the first time in years but then he remembered there was someone he had to thank and still he hadn’t. Dean got on the gas pedal and made his way to Missouri’s office.

Kansas City was a mess as always, and Dean faced traffic jams wherever he drove, but half an hour later he made it and opened the office’s door. Dean faced the same escenario found months ago. There were kids running here and there, and tired parents sit on the chairs, but this time he didn’t look at them with apathy. Dean said good afternoon to everybody and even took and handed back a Lightning McQueen toy a kid had rolled in between his legs. When he made it to the counter, Jessica was looking sternly at him.

“What?” Dean asked, because apparently he couldn’t avoid being a little rude once in a while. “Oh, God, shit, I meant—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester. What can I do for you?” she asked in a serious way, as if she had just remembered why she should act wary with him. It hurt Dean’s chest a little.

“Good morning, Jess. I’d want to talk with Missouri, just for a couple of minutes. Only if she’s free, please?” he replied, defeated, as politely as he could.

Jess stared at him for a while, and nodded. “Let me see what I can do for you,” she said and stood up from her chair at the other side of the counter.

Watching her walk away, Dean remembered Castiel’s words. _‘If you don’t like the path you’re walking, you can always choose a new one,’_ he had said, and probably it included fixing all the relationships he’d broken over the time with his rude comments and attitudes. When she was about to leave the room, Dean called her name and she turned around. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, and she looked at him confused. “For the way I’ve treated you the last time I was here, and for being an asshole just two seconds ago...” he cleared up and she kept in silence, but nodded lightly. “Thanks for worrying about my nose, by the way,” he added, blushing a little. “It was nothing, I was exaggerating. It was… it was just my boyfriend’s cousin. We didn't exactly get well the first time we met,” he finished with a snort.

Jessica replied him with a snort of her own. “Laughing about being punched, recognizing his mistakes, saying _sorry_ … that’s exactly the Dean I know. I’m glad to meet you again,” she said seconds later and left the room with a smile.

Dean’s inners bloomed.

Probably Jessica told her something, because when, ten minutes later, Missouri called his name and received him in his office she did in a completely different way than the last time they saw each other. She looked happier, somehow proud of what Dean had said to her secretary.

“Who has punched you this time?”  she said in a blunt, though, because apparently she couldn’t avoid teasing.

“Nobody,” Dean replied, with a smile. “Look at my nose, it’s perfectly fine. Thanks to your lack of treatment. You’re a great doctor, I admire you,” he added and Missouri punched him lightly in the arm. Dean laughed.

“Oh, that laugh!” Missouri exclaimed. “The last time I heard it was years ago! It makes you look good, fresher. Don’t lose it,” she added and Dean shook his head quietly in agreement. Missouri gestured for Dean to sit in the patient’s chair but Dean declined.

“I’m just passing through, thanks anyway. I have to meet with Sam and Gabriel in an hour,” he replied and Missouri looked at him confused. “Sam came back, for a couple of weeks, to help me with something. I’ve got you with that piece of news! You didn’t know it!” Missouri faked feeling insulted and Dean laughed. “I will tell him to come here and say hi. Or… you know, perhaps it’s better if you come home to meet him and Sarah so we don’t make Jess feel bad or anything… I mean…” he stopped, Missouri looking at him in a way that implied she knew more than she was saying. “What I’ve wanted to say was… I came here to, well, you know…” he sighed. “Thank you, Missouri!” Dean finally blurted. He still didn’t understand why saying the things he honestly felt was so difficult for him. “I didn’t know at that time, when I left your office the last time, but you were right. About everything you’ve said,” he started and Missouri kept quiet. “About my work, my decisions, my… love life… I mean, I have a boyfriend now…”

“Castiel,” Missouri replied, in an acute tone. Dean’s blood froze. “Black hair, blue eyes, selfless attitude. I know.”

“Mom told you?” he tried, with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Your aura told me,” she replied with a smile.

“Oh my God, you don’t get how creepy is that,” Dean replied and made a gesture of trembling. Missouri was impassive. “The other day… did you know as well?”

“Not the name, but the eyes were impossibly arresting not to be seen. You were already caught out by them that day, I’m sorry to inform you,” she said and went to her desk, to take her coffee cup. “This coffee I’m drinking right now is not comparable to the one he makes at you everyday.”

Dean’s jaw dropped and the groaned. “Stop, please. Last thing I need to know is that you know what we do in bed together at night,” he said without thinking. When Missouri arched her lips in a twisted smile he knew he shouldn’t have pointed that out.

“You still did nothing, but wait a little longer and you will,” she replied and took a bit of her coffee. Dean wanted to disappear from there. Otherwise he would spontaneously combust. “I know that you wanted to say you loved him, as well, more than once at this point.” When Dean was about to protest she disallowed him. “Do it. If you want to say it, do it. Don’t let an unlike hypothesis run your decisions. You’ve made it incredibly well up to this point, you cannot lose your heart now.”

“Yours are hypothesis too.”

“Mines are facts, Winchester. I read you, inside,” Missouri replied confidently.

Dean was left outpowered by her answer but still he replied. “I want to tell him.”

“So do it,” Missouri replied, as if it was nothing. “It looks like you’re preventing yourself from saying it because you are _scared_ of saying it instead of _being scared_ about the reaction it could make in him. Be courageous, kid.”

Dean looked at her: dominant, strong, solemn, and still affectionate and warm, like a mother should be. Like Ellen was with him. Like his real mother used to be when she was alive. Somehow, Dean felt really lucky, and nodded. “Did you finish you coffee?” he asked and Missouri assented. “Because I feel like hugging you, to be honest,” he finished and Missouri laughed, complying.

It was a good hug, completely different from the last one they shared. Unlike that moment, Dean felt in peace with himself and his decisions now, except clearly from the way he chose to behave about Castiel. If he wasn’t angry with him, and if Sandover was already a thing in the past for them, Dean knew he would feel incredibly better.

“He is not angry with you,” Missouri said when they parted, Dean petrified in front of her. “He is just frustrated, because he didn’t want you to treat him like the rest do. For him, you’re absolutely different. He can handle the truth, Dean, whatever that is.”

That last statement accompanied Dean all the way back to Overland Park. Sam had messaged him, while he was at Missouri’s office, and told his brother he was already at Gabriel’s house. Bela was there as well, Sam had added in a second message, and Gabriel apparently wanted her far from his house as soon as possible. Dean had two or three ideas about why.

Dean discovered all his theories were reasons of why they wanted to deal with her quickly, and said he was sorry for getting behind. Bela was offended, and terribly irritated, because Sam had decided to make her sign a shared appointment for the car. Dean could see the blush in her cheeks when Sam told her they were preventing from her leaving the cause with the car and without helping them. It was clearly an anger blush. She was not ashamed in the slightest, she was pissed. Sam explained to her once all was over she would have complete possession of the car, that meaning some months in the future, if Cas decided to sell his shares.

She protested for half an hour, telling them she had a lawyer too, but when she realized no threat would be enough for Sam, and the air time of her tv show was getting closer and closer, she finally signed the paper and left the house.

“I like that suit in you,” she said to Dean when he was about to close the door behind her. “When all this is over, we should get together and have angry sex.”

Dean couldn’t understand how shameless she was. “Don’t objectify me,” he replied and smiled. “If I’m going to have angry sex with someone, it’s with my boyfriend. See you!” And with that he shut the door in her face.

“Wow, Dean, that was really smooth,” Victor said and Dean smiled at him.

That was another thing Dean liked about that day. Sam had contacted Victor Henriksen, one of Dean’s friends at college (and one of the people he had left behind when Sandover became his life) as a notary for the cause. Apparently Dean was wrong thinking everybody was resentful of him for that reason, because Victor had no problems in helping them, and even asked Dean to tell Castiel so the three of them and Victor’s wife could have dinner together one of those days.

It sounded promising and Dean accepted.

Once Victor left, Dean left Gabriel and Sam put the final touches in their action plan and went to sit in the porch. He took his cellphone and looked at it for a while, Missouri’s words floating in his mind. Castiel was able to handle the truth, of course he was, the doctor was right. Dean was not afraid of telling him either.

He dialled his boyfriend’s number and waited. After the fifth ring, it went straight to voicemail.

“Goddammit,” Dean whispered, frustrated. It couldn’t be he was so angry at him he didn’t want to pick up. He tried a second, a third and a fourth time, without any success. He was about to fly the cellphone round when it started ringing in his hand. Dean almost dropped it by the surprise, but answered before watching the caller ID. He said hi four times.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel replied, sounding a little agitated. It was good for Dean, probably he didn’t pay attention to how nervous he was as well. “Sorry for ignoring you before. I’ve listen to you but I had my hands full of dough and I couldn’t pick the phone up, I’m really sor—”

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay,” Dean said and kept quiet. Castiel stayed in silence as well, as if he was waiting for Dean to be the first one speaking. And that happened. “I don’t want us to part the way we did earlier today anymore. I don’t want you to be angry at me… I’m… fuck, I’m horrible externalizing my feelings.”

“You’re not horrible, or at least, you’re as horrible at expressing yourself as I am,” Castiel teased and Dean chuckled. They stayed quiet again after that. It was not awkward, though. Dean felt corny thinking that, but nothing was awkward for him when he was around Castiel. “And I’m not angry at you. I’ve tried to be all morning, I confess, but I couldn’t.” Dean knew, Missouri was right, but still Dean wanted Castiel to say it himself. “I’ve hit the cookies dough three or four times against the counter remembering you, but that’s not really mature of me. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.”

“But I am…” Castiel insisted. “Look Dean, I know you’re plotting something and it has to do with me, and even when you know I want to know why, you still don’t tell me,” Dean tried to interrupt but Castiel didn’t let him. “It’s okay, I understand the surprise element you’re trying to perform here, even when I don’t like it. But it’s not something I’d like to repeat if we are a long-term couple, which is what I pretend us to be. So promise me next time you plan to do something as big as I suppose this is, you will come and tell me.”

“What’s the point of surprising you if you already know?” Dean asked and Castiel warned him. “Okay, I promise. Now you promise me you won’t get mad when we get to see each other again,” Dean added and Castiel stayed in silence for some seconds. “Cas?” he called.

“It depends on the level of danger you’ve exposed yourself,” Castiel replied.

“I’m not putting myself in danger, Jesus, Cas!” Dean replied, trying not to sound too much frustrated. “We are not dealing with Don Corleone or Freddy Krueger, it’s just…”

“Who?” Castiel asked when Dean paused his sentence.

“Your cousin Zachariah!” Dean replied and it was like a heavyweight was released from his shoulders. It felt good. “And I’m not alone in this, Gabriel is helping me!” Castiel groaned and muttered something Dean didn’t catch. “I don’t know why you’re groaning. We are getting well, I was not lying yesterday. He hit me and gave me the cold shoulder for months but it’s in the past! And he is getting well with Sammy, that’s a good thing too.”

“Sam? What does Sam have to do with anything?” Castiel asked sounding really puzzled.

“He didn’t come exclusively to see the family, Cas,” Dean replied. At the other side of the phone Castiel was muttering things Dean didn’t get, in between some _‘why’_ or _‘how’_. “Why did you covered your mouth with your hand? I can’t understand shit. Cas, everything is fine. Everything is going to be awesome, you will see.”

“Claire said the same to me,” Castiel replied loudly and clear. Apparently his hand was already somewhere else. Now it was Dean’s turn to ask in confusion. “I’ve talked with Claire earlier today,” Castiel explained. “She saw me distressed and went to ask me why I was like that. And I told her. But it turned she knew what you were doing, because it looks everybody does except from me,” he added and Dean felt his stomach constricting, “and all she said was that you were a great man. Her words, literally,” Castiel pointed out when Dean asked him what he was talking about. “I know she made it difficult for you, she was the only one who looked at you with suspicious eyes even when you were working here and… still, she told me I had to be confident in what you were doing, that she had been wrong all this time about you, and that surprises were not always bad,” he chuckled and Dean did the same. Fucking Claire, he had to go and hug her again. “I tend to think they are, but that’s just me and my complicated mind… Of course I trust you, Dean, entirely. And to be honest, it’s clear to see you’ve put a lot of effort in whatever you’re doing, so…” he paused. “Yesterday, you told me please to wish you luck. I felt so much vexation at the situation I didn’t reply, I was so rude… But now I… good luck, love.”

“What did you say?” Dean asked in a whisper, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I don’t know Dean, I’ve said a lot, practically a monologue, I’ve—”

“The last part, Cas,” Dean replied.

Castiel said nothing for a while. “Good luck,” he tried.

“Not that part,” Dean said, snorting. Castiel replied with a tittering as well.

“ _Love_ ,” he said finally and Dean felt his blood running cold. “I love you, Dean.” Then, silence, again. Dean felt his chest constricting by Castiel’s declaration, to the point it was difficult to breath. He tried to breath in and breath out deeply, to recover the ability of doing it without thinking he had to, but then Castiel spoke again. “I know it’s precipitate from me, saying this over the phone is not appealing or common… and I know you probably won’t want to say it back yet. I’m not asking you that! It’s just... I couldn’t wait any longer…”

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean interrupted, surprising even himself. “I love you, with everything I have, and more, probably.” Dean heard how Castiel was breathing with difficulty as well. It was good to know he was not alone. “I need to go, I’m going to, you know…” he sighed. “Please turn the TV to Kansas News in an hour.”

“Kansas News? Why?” Castiel asked, in a worry tone.

“Just do it, please. You will understand when you see,” Dean replied and the conversation was over. Dean stayed quiet at his place in the porch, replaying their mutual confessions in his mind. Again and again. When Sam tapped his shoulder, Dean almost jumped.

“Let’s go,” Sam said. When they were walking to the Impala and Dean hadn’t said a word he tried again. “Has something happened?” he asked worried. Gabriel was walking behind them, with a lollipop in his mouth, but Dean didn’t see him.

“Cas told me he loved me,” Dean replied, already at the steering wheel. “And I said I fucking loved him too. For the first time ever…”

“Over the phone?!” Sam asked, arching his eyebrows. Dean nodded.

“Oh God, please. I cannot believe how emotionally constipated the two of you are!” Gabriel said and Dean noticed his presence at the back seat of the car for the first time, blushing profusely. If he had known he was there he wouldn’t had said a thing. “That’s something you have to confess face to face, looking at him in the eyes, with seduction and candlelights lighting your faces and you know... naked if possible,” Dean turned the engine on in order not to look at Gabriel anymore. “It’s great to me, anyway. It looks like you’ve found each other. Destiny wanted the two most constipated people in the planet to meet and love each other, because clearly nobody else would...”

“That’s what I’ve said to him today! Except from the rude parts,” Sam replied and Gabriel laughed. The rest of the journey was a long and painful conversation between Gabriel and Sam that covered the topic of Dean’s love life in more than one occasion, no matter how many times he told them to stop. Clearly for Dean, his brother’s friendship with his boyfriend’s cousin and the fact they shared the same kind of acid humor was a nightmare.

Although, it was not the biggest nightmare of them all, and that’s what Dean discovered when he parked the Impala by his usual spot in Sandover’s parking deck. He was extremely nervous. According to plan, Gabriel got out the car first, leaving the Winchester brothers alone.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Sam said in a murmur, taking his brother by the hand. “Hey, Dean,” he said louder to catch his attention. “Everything is going to be fine.” Dean nodded but said nothing else. “What you’re doing means a better future for you, a compensation for all the work you’ve done here, and clearly a break for someone who is really important for you.”

“He’s not just _important_. I firmly think he’s the love of my life, Sammy,” Dean confessed, without looking at his brother, but Sam squeezed his hand in a sign of understatement.

“I get it, of course I do, and I can’t explain how much happy that makes me,” Sam replied. “Especially if he’s the love of your life you have to make this, don’t be scared.”

“I’m not _scared_ , I just want to keep my temple so I don’t punch the fucking prick in the face,” Dean replied and Sam laughed. “What?” he asked.

“That was one hundred percent Dean, what you’ve just said,” Sam replied and made Dean smile. He wanted to say something else but at that moment Sam’s cellphone vibrated and he read Gabriel was already inside the building. “It’s time to move,” he said and got out the car in a blink.

“Why did Gabriel sent you the message? Are you best friends now or something?” Dean asked before opening the company’s door. Sam shook affectionately his head and followed him inside.

It was almost half past two so the scenario he got in the hall was not dramatic as he though. At that time of the afternoon almost everybody were working at their offices so there were only people coming and going who didn’t pay attention to those who came from outside.

It was good for Dean. Probably too good to be true, because when he saw Becky, that was at her desk, watching him with a nervous expression, as if she had seen a ghost, Dean knew something was out of place.

“Dean?!” she asked, in a yell. There were two guys from the IT department, with their yellow polos that turned around surprised to see her and then Dean. Their expressions were priceless. If it wasn’t that Dean was the focus of their stares, it would have been funny. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to resume my activities, as it was planned,” Dean replied, maintaining the composure.

“You can’t do that, Dean, at least not now when it’s almost three in the afternoon. The work day is practically over, you already have been marked as absent today. Please come back tomorrow.”

“I won’t come back tomorrow,” Dean insisted, severely. “I need to talk with Mr. Sandover. Now.”

Becky was starting to show her nervousness, looking at everybody, everywhere. When she was about to press the intercom button she became aware Dean was not alone. It was not her fault, being completely honest. Sam had stayed quiet besides Dean, guarding his briefcase jealously.

“Who is he?” she asked, pointing out to Sam with a dreamy expression. Dean was suddenly creeped out by the turn of events, though. She looked as she had hearts in her eyes. Knowing her, Dean was practically sure she was also plotting inside her head a plan to kidnap Sam and marry him while he was asleep. Or high. Or both.

Sam, however, didn’t get any weird vibe. He walked to Becky and offered her his hand. She took it as soon as was physically possible. “I’m Dean’s brother and lawyer. Hope you will understand and let us pass.”

Becky giggled, putting her free hand in her mouth. Oh God, Dean wanted to throw up. “I’m Becky. Becky Rosen,” she said, although Dean was sure Sam couldn’t care less. “I’m friends with your brother, practically the only person he talks with here.” Dean thought it was only because he had no other option, but he didn’t remark it. “He has always been good to me and it hurts my heart but I can’t let you pass. I have order from my boss. You will have to come back tomorrow, I’m sorry.” She sat in her chair dramatically, never setting Sam’s hand free, who had tried a couple times, Dean had seen him. “If you don’t get out of the building in a minute I will have to ask security to escort you, and I wouldn’t want that. Your face, it shows no malice, you wouldn’t—”

“Becky,” someone said behind her. She turned around and looked at Gabriel, who was already besides the elevator. “Stop sexually harassing the poor guy. Let them pass, they come with me.”

“What?” Becky asked, looking in between Gabriel and the Winchester brothers, completely astonished. “Since when do you know Dean? I’ve never known.”

“You should improve your sources, Varys the Spider. You clearly don’t know everything. Let’s move,” he said, making a gesture to Dean and Sam with the hand. “Release the guy, Becky. He won’t marry you.”

Becky doubted for a couple of seconds until he let Sam go. “We could meet another day, have a coffee, what do you think?” she asked instead, when Sam was already walking to the elevator.

“Sure!” Sam said once inside, before the door closed. “That was weird,” he said after the three of them were left alone. Gabriel agreed.

“I didn’t know you watched Game of Thrones,” Dean commented, changing the topic completely, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t lead our apparent friendship to the point we share the shows we watch, dumbass,” Gabriel replied, and Dean rolled his eyes. “I hate Joffrey,” Gabriel pointed out, seconds later, in a whisper. Dean smiled. Gabriel’s answer was a friendship confirmation of sorts. It felt good.

“You and me both, dude,” he replied with a smile, at the time the elevator confirmed they were at the accountants floor.

They had decided Dean would get into his office first so he could check if he had left something personal he didn’t remember behind. If their plan with Zachariah ended up being successful, Dean was sure he wouldn’t want to spend another second inside the building.

They walked there, Gabriel waving some people here and there that recognized him, but when Dean arrived to his office he knew something was odd. The office’s lights were turned on and there was movement inside. “What the hell?” he asked and opened the door, without knocking. Big was his surprise when he saw a guy sit in _his_ chair by the desk, typing stuff in _his_ computer, using _his_ cisco phone, talking with _his_ headphones. “What the fuck?” he asked again, louder this time, and the guy turned to look at him. “Who the hell are you?!”

“I’m Ephraim Milton and I work here, who are _you_?” he asked with airs and left Dean bowled over.

“I’m Dean Winchester and I work here…” he tried and looked at both sides, but Gabriel and Sam were already far from him, talking to each other, completely out of the situation Dean was dealing with.

The guy looked at Dean with a mocking face. “You don’t work in his office anymore,” he said and snorted. “I suggest you to talk to your superior. Now, close the door, thanks.”

Dean did as he was told, completely shocked. Although, when he started walking, he kicked the first cubicle of the communal office in rage, making the child that worked there jump. “Sorry Adam,” Dean said and kept on walking. Sam and Gabriel were already looking at him, with wary expressions. “There is already a guy in my fucking office!” he said when they met and Gabriel shook his head.

“My brother,” he said, outraged. “He doesn’t lose time, apparently.”

“We neither,” Sam replied when they took the elevator again. “Replacing someone without a notification is an aggravation. They will have to pay you more,” he said looking at Dean, who nodded. All Dean wanted to do was leaving the goddamned place, with a couple of heads stuck on a pike, if possible. With that thought in mind he arrived to Zachariah’s floor.

“Let’s go,” Gabriel said, and they all walked to the office door. Dean’s irritation grew exponentially with every step walked. “Let me warm the situation up a little,” he added and entered to the room without knocking. Zachariah’s screams were heard from outside. Sam looked at Dean disgusted.

“We should be glad we don’t have that kind of family,” he said in a joke. Dean couldn’t agree more. They had problems in their childhoods, their mother died young and probably John was never an exemplary father, but still it was not like that.

At some point in the discussion that was happening inside the office, someone walked in. “Oh, I must have imagined it! Dean Winchester in the flesh!” Crowley said sarcastically. “I was so interested in your potential… what a waste,” he added and entered the room. He didn’t care to greet Sam or at least share a glance with him.

“What a scottish fucker you had as a boss,” he said, and Dean couldn’t complain.

“Lucky the Leprechaun's evil twin,” Dean replied jokingly and Sam laughed. At least their silly jokes made the wait a little more bearable.

Gabriel opened the door ten minutes later, more or less. The screams had already stopped, and Dean suspected they were dealing with family issues instead of talking specifically about Castiel. That part was on him. He sighed deeply and entered the room, with his brother at his side.

“Well, well, well… that’s the company my brother was talking about,” Zachariah said with a ironic tone. Dean felt as if Zachariah’s gaze was trying to kill him with its intensity, but Dean resisted, simply nodding at him. “I never thought you were the kind of guy that would join together with my brother to betray me. You never had guts for anything but obeying,” he added and Dean counted to three in order not to insult him.

“You never knew me,” Dean replied, instead, and looked at Crowley. “He must had suspected it, a little at least, because he warned me once or twice before suspending me.” Zachariah’s face was priceless, he had no idea of Crowley’s behaviour. Dean was being lucky. “I’d suggest you to talk with your business managers more often.”

“And these two guys before you are not the only ones I’ve sided with, beloved brother,” Gabriel said and Zachariah turned his attention to him as well. “Turn the television on.”

“Why?”

“I’ve said: turn the television on.” Gabriel was amazing, Dean discovered, and that realization made him felt a little bad because he’d never had the opportunity before to know it. Gabriel took nobody’s shit and behaved as a badass no matter who was in front of him. Somehow Dean felt glad they were in speaking terms now, working together. He wouldn’t mind being his friend. Zachariah took the remote control and turned on the tv. “Are you watching CNBC?” Gabriel groaned. “What a boredom! Turn to Kansas News!” Zachariah looked at him with a suspicious face but complied.  And there she was. Bela Talbot, advertizing the fancy clothes she was wearing that day. “Do you want me to watch this bitch you had as your girlfriend? Why would I get from the nonsense she always says?”

“Patience is a virtue, brother. And I wouldn’t insult the girl. She’s worked for you and bedded Crowley here for a long time. She has a powerful stomach. Give her that,” Gabriel said and Dean held on his laugh. It was all dramatically hilarious.

“Today in _‘Extra With Bela Talbot’_ we will be talking about tons of shocking news, as we usually do, but it happens to be a really interesting day for me as well, as a person! Please, Gordon, a close-up of my face! Thanks,” she paused and smiled. “You know I’m a hard worker, that I give my life for a piece of news that could help this lovely state we are all living in,” she made a face of concern, and Dean chuckled. Crowley looked at him with murderous eyes, but Dean couldn’t care less. He winked at Crowley and kept on watching. “This is why when I met this lovely people that preferred to remain anonymous, I knew they were good people as well. You just… you see it in their eyes,” she cleared her throat, looking moved. “It happens that they were really mistreated by a big company placed here in Kansas, that we all know and respect. Or well, we used to, probably, after this show ends airing today; and told me in a moment of desperation all the shocking facts they knew about that place. It’s reprehensible, you have no idea how much.” Gabriel smiled and looked at Zachariah, who was whitening a little. Dean didn’t know seeing someone growing pale like that could be so gratifying. “The saddest aspect of it all is, that in the end, I was a victim of their filthyful corruption as well, since I’ve been close to some important managers of that company in the past…” Bela sighed deeply, looking fragile, and if Dean didn’t know she was the worst, he would had teared up a little. “They used me to give good reviews about their work in my show, to recommend their firm to important people I know, and at this point I think they even used me to spread bad information about former workers in the past. I feel in debt with you all, my beloved watchers, so I’ve decided to share the information with you all. Please, stay tuned. We will be back after some spots of our sponsors.”

Zachariah changed his color like a chameleon from white to red in less than a second. He took the remote control, turned the tv off, and made an attempt to throw the control up to Gabriel, but his younger brother took it from his hands before Zachariah could do anything.

“Are you stupid, Zach?” Gabriel yelled, and passed the remote to Dean, who took it doubtfully. “If you hit me I will take my bloody phone and I will call Bella and tell her please to go on. If I say so, she will talk the whole hour about you two. Are we clear?” he said and Zachariah dropped on his chair. His irritation was easy to see.

“What the hell do you know?” he asked, Crowley shocked at his side.

“A lot of things,” Gabriel replied, with airs.

“What the hell do you know?” Zachariah asked again, louder, his exasperation impossible to hide.

“Environmental crimes, misappropriation of public funds… Dick Roman,” Dean replied, feeling alive and victorious. Zachariah looked more and more scared with every word Dean said. “The information, and multiple proofs, were provided to me.”

“By whom?” Crowley asked, similarly scared, but never losing his petulant tone.

“I won’t tell,” Dean replied with a torn smile. “I’m the one with power over you right now, so I’d suggest you to shut up,” he added. “When you told me I had to instigate a poor person to sell their shop for such a low price… I never liked it. I tried to do it, I did! Because I was loyal to my job, and I was convinced I worked in a good place… but then I did a deeper research… and fuck if you’re disgusting.” He paused, waiting for any of them to interrupt him, but it didn’t happen. They looked defeated. “You took me from granted. You thought I was as stupid as the other people you use everyday... you thought I was as an ass-licking moron as Bartholomew is. You were wrong.”

Zachariah kept on playing with his golden pen, turning it around again and again. He huffed and puffed a couple times after Dean stopped talking and looked at Crowley. “You’re an imbecile, MacLeod, losing Talbot’s commitment like that, for these guys. You will pay.” Crowley gulped in such a way Dean was able to hear it. “Go and do something productive. Find Joshua, we’re going to—”

“No, no, no, no,” Gabriel interrupted, and Crowley, who had started walking, stopped in between Zachariah’s desk and his office door. “You won’t call any attorney. We will fix our little situation here, if you don’t want me to call Bella. I’ve told her please to start with the tree problem, because it’s the lighter one. Probably she is talking about it right now. But I can tell her to go on,” he continued, his smile invading the whole room.

“Are you blackmailing me?” Zachariah asked, sarcastically.

“Yes. After all these years, I’m finally doing it,” Gabriel replied, and the whole room was silent again. “You were always the one belittling me, putting me and Castiel down, now it’s my turn.”

Zachariah stayed quiet, looking in between Gabriel and the Winchester brothers. Crowley stayed at his spot, until his cellphone started to ring, He answered the call and rolled his eyes, sighing in fury. “It’s the _Kansas Ecological Services Field Office_ , they want to talk with you about what Bela is telling in her tv show.” He sounded agitated, and it was amazing for Dean.

“Tell them I will call later,” Zachariah replied, in a hurry. He looked at the three guys. “What the hell do you want from us?”

“Uff, a lot of things,” Gabriel replied. “Could you explain them, Sam?”

“Of course,” he said and sat in front of Zachariah, taking his backpack and opening it. Once he did, he offered Zachariah a hand, but he didn’t accept it. Sam backtracked shaking his head. “My name is Sam Winchester. I’m Dean’s brother, and his lawyer. As well as Gabriel and Castiel’s one.” That was not official, still, but Dean would deal with that later. “If you don’t want us to release the rest of the information that is in out power, you will have to sign a few papers and return some money back.”

“What the h—”

“Please, sir, I’m explaining the situation here. If you would mind stop interrupting me it would be quicker for us,” Sam replied, impassible. Dean thought it was remarkable. “First of all, taking into account my brother has been working here for five years, I don’t think it’s considerate from you, or even legal to replace him without a notification. He had worked all these years more than eight hours a day. In average, it was from twelve to fourteen, even in weekends, and his pay was never modified. No overtime, working under the table. All aggravations in his labor contract. He has expressed to me he was threaten to instigate a third party to do something against their will. Said task had nothing to do with his job as an accountant. Again, an aggravation.”

“I get it, what do you want?” Zachariah answered, clearly exasperated. Sam smiled.

“I want you to sign my brother’s dismissal,” Sam replied. “He won’t resign. You will fire him, claiming reduction in force, with an according compensation, for all his years of hard work. And you will write some reference letters for Dean if he wants to use them for future employments.

“How much money are we talking about?” Zachariah asked, and to Dean’s ears he sounded completely defeated.

“We will cover that part later,” Sam answered with a poker face. “It’s still half past three in the afternoon, we have all day to speak. Now, let’s move to the topic of my other client, Castiel Novak,” Zachariah groaned and tried to say something else, but Sam stopped him. “Your complaints won’t mean a thing to me. If anything, will make my requests stronger. Even if my client didn’t want to use his share in this company, you used it for other purposes than the ones you signed for. You know what I will say, that’s a crime. It’s not your money, it’s your cousins. We will start talking about this…”

Dean paid attention to every word said, every paper signed, and with every passing minute, his nervousness decreased more and more. Sam had the situation completely handled. He was a good attorney, and apparently, a good executioner as well. Once in a while, he checked on Gabriel, who was extremely satisfied, and was not ashamed of showing it; and Crowley, who was denied to leave the room in more than one opportunity, both by Gabriel and Zachariah himself. The guy was worried, and Dean couldn’t help feeling good about it. It was well-deserved, for all the times that he threatened him and treated him like garbage.

The negotiation was tense, and long, but Dean enjoyed it as a kid with a new toy. It meant completely freedom for him, and a brand new life for Castiel. Dean couldn’t be more excited about it. Castiel has sent him multiple messages at Dean’s phone while he was at Sandover. Some were curious, some were asking if he was okay, some were blatant questions about what he was doing. Dean always answered him he would tell him later, and that he was doing more than fine. At some point, when Castiel told him he didn’t want Dean to face any trouble in his name, Dean pushed his boundaries and replied he loved him, so he would if necessary. Castiel’s answer took ten tortuous minutes. _‘I love you too, but that’s not the point,’_ it said, and Dean couldn't help a smile. Gabriel looked at him with a teasing expression.

“You can’t stop flirting, not even when we’re negotiating with Satan,” he murmured.

Dean smirked. “It’s not flirting. It’s just me feeling happier than ever,” he replied.

“Good for you,” Gabriel said, and kept on paying attention to the verbal battle his brother and Dean’s brother were playing. Dean did the same, before checking on his watch and see it was already seven o’clock. He had told Castiel he would be there at night, he hoped the negotiation ended up soon.

“I think it’s all settled,” Sam said half an hour later. Dean’s legs felt numb. “I have no more papers for you to sign, no more agreements to make. I will come back tomorrow with Gabriel too make Mister Bartholomew Cubbins and the other family members sign their restraining notes, but that’s all about you. Thanks for the collaboration, sir. Remember we still have the information about your company, as well as Miss Talbot. I wouldn't say or do anything, it could turn against you.” Sam offered his hand to Zachariah again, who declined it for a second time. That didn’t prevent Sam from being polite, and when he offered it to Crowley, he took it. “It was a pleasure to make businesses with you,” Sam said, and left the room.

Gabriel followed him immediately. “Say Hester and Raphael hi for me,” he said, while Dean was standing up from his chair. “They told me they used a lot of Castiel’s share to buy stuff for themselves. Clothes, perfumes, and some other important things. It’s good to know from this moment they will have to take the money from someone else.”

“Winchester,” Zachariah said when Dean was about to leave. He turned around and looked at his now former boss. “You should had made a restraining note for you too. Give it time and I will destroy you.”

Dean snorted. “Do you still have the nerve of threatening me?” he asked. “Don’t worry, I’m already included in that note you signed,” Dean added and Zachariah frowned. “It said you couldn’t get in touch with Castiel, and immediate family, partner or spouse… well, I suppose after hours of speaking you still didn’t get it. I’m Castiel’s boyfriend,” Dean said and Zachariah reaction was priceless. He wished he had a camera so he could film it. “Give me some years, and if I’m lucky he will be my husband. Good night, _cousin_.” he finished and closed the door.

Dean could swear Zachariah’s screams were heard by the first floor.

“You, telling him you’re Castiel’s boyfriend. That was awesome,” Gabriel said, once they were outside, in the parking deck. Kali, Sarah and Mary were waiting for Sam and Gabriel in his Ford Fiesta. Somehow they knew without Dean telling them that he needed to be somewhere else. “I admitted I’ve thought really bad about you,” he said once Sam was inside the car and he was the only one remaining. “I’m sorry, and to be honest I think you’re perfect for my cousin. The guy he has always thought he would never meet.” Gabriel sighed and patted Dean in the arm. “Now go and tell him everything,” he said and entered the car.

“Wish me luck,” Dean replied, a little worried.

“You won’t need it,” Gabriel replied and turned the engine on, disappearing in the middle of the traffic. “Bring him pizza!” Dean heard him say, in a yell, but he didn’t know where the hell the car was. It was as tiny as him. Dean wondered how Sam could fit inside it.

It was already eight, probably at that time Castiel had closed the store and was cashing up. Dean had a little while to buy the food and take his stuff from his apartment, so he did. He ordered pizza by phone to be delivered at Castiel’s house and went to his house in the meanwhile, so he could shorten time. He felt a little guilty, leaving Castiel alone dealing with the cash and closing the store, but it was the only way. It was already too late.

When he finally arrived at Castiel’s house he tried to look at the windows, but all lights were turned off, so he sat at the porch and waited. He was still there when the pizza guy arrived and handed him the order. The kid was looking him with wary eyes, so Dean looked at the name embroidered in the guy's sweater and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re lookin at me like this, Alfie. Yeah, it’s winter. Yeah, it’s cold. But my boyfriend is about to come and I don’t have the keys.”

Alfie took the money and left looking offended. Perhaps Dean needed to work a little better about his manners.

He waited ten minutes more and then he saw Castiel, walking at the block before. It was dark and Dean barely saw a thing, but he knew it was Castiel. His unhurried pace, his dishevelled hair… he had his backpack at his chest, and he was looking something at it. When he turned to enter his house and saw a figure in his porch, he screamed.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Dean replied in a hurry, walking to where Castiel was, agitated and in shock. Dean took Castiel in an embrace and he felt him easing. “Did you think I was a thief or something?” he said, parting a little.

Castiel made a face. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he replied. “I’ve had a lot in my mind today.” He took Dean by the cheek, with his free hand and kissed him. Dean thought it was the best gift Castiel could ever give him.

“I’ve brought pizza, and the ganache as I promised I would,” Castiel smirked quietly. “I’ve brought all the stuff I want to tell you, I have surprises…”

“I’m scared by your surprises,” Castiel replied, putting his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t, everything is fine,” Dean said, and kissed him in the head. “I’ve brought a change of clothes, just in case... you know... if we talk too much so I have to stay the night?” Castiel laughed at Dean’s remark, making Dean’s body move. Castiel moved his head and kissed Dean in the neck.

“Let’s go inside, I’m hungry and cold,” he said.

“Isn’t my body warm enough?” Dean replied cheekily and took all the stuff he had placed in the floor and followed Castiel.

It wasn’t the first time he was at Castiel’s house, but he always came and went in passing, waiting for Castiel to take something before leaving somewhere else, or leaving him by the door (probably after a long make out session they never somehow leaded further). However, this was the first time he had the chance to see the house, and Dean liked what he was watching.

It was clearly not as neat as Castiel wanted it to be, but it was understandable. Castiel was always working and had no time to clean. However, the house unlike his apartment, looked like a home, like a place he would like living in.

“I’m going to bring some glasses,” Castiel said. “Do you want soda?” Dean agreed and Castiel disappeared behind the kitchen door with a timid smile.

Dean took the time to observe the living room. It was welcoming, two armchairs and a sofa, surrounding a coffee table. There was a big television, set in the wall opposite to the armchairs, but that was not what surprised Dean the most.

All those times he had been there he never noticed the big library placed at the left. It was completely struck by books. Some of them looked new, but most were used up, its covers all marked.

“They are mine,” Castiel said, surprising Dean. “All mine, yes, that means some are from before my father died. They were his,” he added when Dean asked him.

“How did you get them?” Dean asked. “I mean, you were out of the house without clothes or… I don’t know, sorry, I don’t want to bring up that part of your life…”

“It’s okay,” Castiel replied, placing the glasses and soda on the coffee table. “I’ve made my peace with that. Put the pizza here, what do you think about eating sit at the floor, barefoot?” he asked and showed Dean his socked foot, Dean agreed. “I have a carpet, you won’t have a problem making your ass cold,” Castiel added, when Dean was already at his side, and Dean pinched him playfully. “Answering your questions, yeah, I left Zachariah’s house only with my clothes. But years after that, I remember telling Gabriel I had left all my books behind, and how sad that made me,” Castiel started, in between bits of Sicilian pizza. Dean nodded, eating as well. “I never told him to do anything, although after a couple of weeks he stormed into Zachariah's house with Andy, a friend of him, and well… they stole them all and brought them here.” Castiel laughed at the memory and Dean wished he could had seen Gabriel doing it. “I told him off, because I didn’t want anyone doing dangerous things in my name like that,” he glanced at Dean with a meaningful gaze. “I know you’ve done something dangerous in my name as well, don’t put that face.”

“I didn’t put a face,” Dean tried, sounding offended.

“Yes, you did,” Castiel replied. “But we’re not talking about that yet, so don’t worry. Let’s eat and talk nonsense. Did Sam ever steal a thing for you?” he asked to change the topic and Dean laughed, amazed by the fact he could be the boyfriend of such an unusual person.

The rest of the meal was a mixture between pizza, Coke, kisses and pointless discussions, and even when Dean was wary of how Castiel would take the surprises he was about to give, he felt free like never before.

“Oh God, Dean, this tart is incredible!” Castiel moaned in pleasure when he tried Dean’s ganache. “I cannot believe you’ve made it yourself after how many tries?”

“Just one,” Dean replied, in between feeling ashamed and proud of his ability. Castiel smiled from ear to ear, laying down on Dean’s legs. He looked so handsome like that Dean thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his dick in its normal position. However, he made the effort. They still had a lot of things to talk about. He sighed, and took Castiel by the hair, caressing him again and again, while they ate in silence, or Castiel chose to speak about new recipes Dean could try baking. Dean had no idea if he had the talents to be a good baker, but he was sure he could bake anything for Castiel.

“I’d like telling you my first surprise,” Dean started, he had no idea how much time later, after they’d eaten two slices of tart each, and were sat in the couch, as close as they could. Castiel was drowsy and mumbled some nonsense in Dean’s neck that he didn’t understand. “What?” he asked, getting more comfortable in the couch and leading Castiel to sit better as well.

“I said, can’t we talk about that tomorrow?” he asked and yawned.

“No, we can’t,”  Dean replied, feeling suddenly confident. “Let’s order the table, I have a lot of papers I want you to see,” he added and stood up from the couch, taking the food remains and the glasses to the kitchen. Castiel collaborated with him, even when he was still yawning, and cleaned the coffee table with a dish towel.

“Well, let’s start for the beginning,” Dean said when they were again placed besides the table, taking his backpack and a folder out of it. Dean inhaled deeply, Castiel still looking at him patiently. “I don’t want you to feel responsible of this, or anything, so please refrain from blaming yourself. All the stuff I’ve done, yeah, I’ve done it for you, it’s not a secret,  you know that,” he said and Castiel called his name, but Dean didn’t let him say anything else. “I’ve done it for you... but I’ve done it for me as well. I’m Dean Winchester, fighting for the people I love is in my DNA. That’s what I used to do when I was young, and what I will do until I die. I couldn’t be an accomplice of what your family was doing to you, as well as I couldn’t be part of a place that is managed for people like them.” Castiel released a deep sigh, as if he knew what was about to be said. “Look at this,” Dean said and handed Castiel a piece of paper, that he took.

“Oh my God,” Castiel replied, seconds later, reading the content of the dismissal letter. “Why did you do that?”

“I’ve already told you,” Dean replied with patience, taking Castiel’s hand and joining it with his own. “I won’t work for them anymore, Cas, that’s something. From this moment, I will build my own career. I will work with Bobby, with you if you want me there, I will find my own clientele... it’s not that difficult. It will be an adventure, I will enjoy it,” he took Castiel’s face in his hand, and turned it a little so they were looking at each other. “I will enjoy it, Cas. I’m unemployed and probably homeless, but I had a shitty job and a shitty house… I don’t want anything shitty in my life anymore.” He perked Castiel on the lips and caressed his cheek. “Will you help me?” Castiel nodded, closing his eyes, and embracing his boyfriend. Dean took that as a sign to go on. “You know, Sammy made it in such a way they had to compensate me not only for the dismissal itself, but also for all the overtime work I’ve made there! I mean… I’m unemployed and everything, but I think I can straighten out the fact I gave Bela the Prius with t—”

“What?” Castiel asked, turning his head to see Dean. Dean sighed deeply.

“It was not the order I wanted to explain it, but it looks like my mouth executes faster than my brain… I don’t own the Prius anymore,” Dean said, as if it was nothing. Castiel jumped. “It’s not so bad, Cas, I’m telling you! It was the only way she would cooperate with us…I don’t need that car, I have the Impala, and that’s enough-”

“Cooperate with what?” Castiel asked. “I know she has teamed with you somehow because you asked me to watch her show, and I did, but I have no idea why…”

“Because she was the only person Gabriel and I knew that could put some pressure over them to do what we wanted them to do,” Dean replied. He felt Castiel’s heart beating like crazy close to his chest. “Take it easy, Cas, everything is fine.”

“No, no, no, everything is wrong!” Castiel said and tried to put some distance in between him and Dean but Dean didn’t allow him. “You and Sam, and Gabriel! You all put yourselves in risk for me! I’m not worth the effort. Who am I, after all? An idiot who doesn’t know anything except from baking… that is so stupid that drowned himself in debts and debts and more debts, debts everywhere!” he made a gesture with his arms, raising them. “Why would you risk a thing for someone like me?”

“My job is not a priority, Cas, not if I’m not with you,” Dean replied gently, taking the dismissal paper from Castiel’s hands and holding his face now with both hands. “I’ve met you with debts surrounding you everywhere I looked, as you said, but I felt in love with you with those debts as well. Money doesn’t define you, Cas. Your ethics do. Your actions. The way you treat your employees and customers everyday, with a smile and gifts, politely. They way you talked to me the first day over the phone, being sincere and genuine, always telling the truth. The way you devote your life for your store, because you have passion for it, and you loved your grandmother plenty. That’s what is important. Stop thinking about the mistakes you’ve committed. They are a few compared to all the positive things you make everyday, or to how important you are as a person for everyone that knows you and loves you.” Dean kissed Castiel, pressing their foreheads together when he parted. “I’ve asked around, I’ve heard people in and outside the store. They all love you, there’s no one in Overland Park that doesn’t like you…”

“Yes, all the people I’m in debt with, for instance,” Castiel interrupted, tearing up a bit.

“If they define a person over the money they have, they are not worth the analysis,” Dean replied, never losing his affectionate tone. “The point is, people like you because you’re amazing. You’re not an idiot. You’re not stupid. And to be honest you’re not even in debts anymore…”

And yeah, that was another bomb he dropped before thinking. Castiel didn’t notice he was talking seriously, although, because he kept on blaming himself. “I don’t know what you’re saying, Dean. I’m still deep in debts, no matter if you think I’m a good guy or not. That’s not something you can change.”

Dean breathed deeply. He had already teased it, he wouldn’t backtrack again.

“You’re not in debts anymore, Cas,” he said and waited. Castiel kept on tearing up and mumbling things to himself for some seconds until he stopped, and raised his head, in shock. He tilted it a bit, looking confused, and furrowed his brows. “You’re not a debtor anymore. Or yeah, you are, but now you have the money at your disposal so you can stop being one.”  

“What?” Castiel asked, completely puzzled, looking at Dean as if he was trying to figure him out. At some point his eyes widened, and Dean felt his pulse growing up. “I…” Castiel said. “I won’t accept your compensation money. No, Dean, it’s yours, I’ve just…”

“Cas, hey, stop,” Dean said shaking him lightly by the shoulders. Cas paid attention to him again and Dean found his chance to speak. “First of all, I’m not talking about my compensation money, so stop worrying. Anyway, if it was the case, I would have used it for that without thinking it twice, because I can use it in whatever I want, and I want _your happiness_.” Castiel pouted at the last sentence but Dean didn’t stop. He went to the backpack and handed Castiel the rest of the material. “I’m talking about this.”

Castiel took wary the folder and started reading, his face changing its expressions every two seconds. From surprise to fear, from anger to hope. Dean loved  the hopeful one in him. Hope looked good in everybody, but hope in Castiel’s eyes was beyond compare. At some point in the reading, Castiel couldn’t stand the pressure anymore and started crying out loud, as much as his eyes allowed him, as if he was externalizing in his tears all those years of frustrations and bad moments; as if he was trying to release all the negative energy he had collected over the years out of his body, out of his life.

Dean took the folder out of Castiel’s hands and hugged him with all his forces. In his arms, Castiel exploded again, crying a river of tears so powerful Dean wanted to cry himself. “That’s why we needed Bela, do you understand now?” he started. Castiel didn’t say anything, all his power focused into crying his eyes out, but he held on Dean stronger than before, so Dean knew he was listening. “I’ve received juicy information about Zachariah, that I will share with you if you want. I told Gabriel and Sam about it, and we planned this. It was our only chance. Otherwise he would have never stopped pestering you, and neither Gabriel nor me wanted that. You worship freedom, you deserve freedom.”

Castiel babbled some things after that, that Dean didn’t understand. “Blackmailing is not right.” That phrase, Dean heard it.

“I know it’s not right,” he answered. “But all the stuff he did to you wasn’t right either. An eye for an eye. He kicked you out of his house and left you homeless. He sent people to your store to press you to sell it. He made you suffer with his dirty tricks and behavior. He insulted you for your sexuality, for deciding for yourself, for being your own person. He used your money indiscriminately… at some point it had to stop.”

Castiel breathed irregularly, but at least he had stopped crying. “How do you know about that? Did Gabriel tell you about my debts?” he asked, in a murmur Dean barely listened. That it was, the most difficult answer.

“No,” he denied. “I found out myself.” Castiel stayed in his spot, confused, red eyed from crying, trembling a little. “I asked Sam to figure it out, to be honest, because I needed to know.”

There was silence in between them, Dean didn’t know for how long. They stared, and Dean knew Castiel was likely to reprimand him for what he had just said. “That’s like spying, Dean, it’s not good. I don’t appreciate it,” he said in a serious tone.

Deal gulped. “I never consider it as _spying_ , but you’re not the only person mentioning it so perhaps I’m wrong,” he replied and Castiel nodded, never changing his expression.

“Who else knew about this?”

“Everybody,” Dean replied. Castiel huffed. “My brother, your cousin, his wife, his daughter even!” Castiel made Dean a face and it made him snort. “I’m serious! She knew! My family as well, your staff!”

“You mean, everybody except from me,” Castiel said, shaking his head, and wiping tears out of his cheek.

“I told you it was a surprise,” Dean joked, to ease the atmosphere and Castiel answered with tears and chuckles in equal proportions. It could had been worse.

“I don’t know what to say about this, I’m a mess,” Castiel replied in between the tears. “On the one hand I want to strangle you with my bare hands, because I’m serious when I say you didn’t have to spy on me, you could have asked, I’d have—”

“How many times have I asked, Cas?” Dean replied and Castiel lowered his gaze. Castiel knew Dean had asked millions of times, and he had always denied him the answer. “I’ve asked you, and what did you always say to me?”

“That you would get angry,” Castiel replied quietly.

“I’d have never been angry with you! I mean, I’ve lost my shit when Sam told me, but it was not for you, it was for them! I’ve always wanted to help you, Cas. Do you know that?” Castiel nodded. “I’m part of your team, I’ve probably always been, since the first day. It was stupid for us saying this over the phone because… I guess we had to say it face to face first, but I’ve done all this because I love you. I’d do anything for you, anything to make you happy. And that includes me figuring out by myself all the stuff you don’t want to tell me because you’re ashamed. I don’t want you to be ashamed! You made mistakes, I made mistakes, everybody does! Let’s be together so we can help each other not to commit mistakes anymore...”

Castiel smirked timidly. “Charlie always said I deserved a prince in shining armor who came and saved me from my ugly cousin, or _Mr. Potter_ , how she has always called him, I don’t know why,” Dean laughed at the comparison, but Castiel remained unclued. “I used to say she was wrong, that I didn’t need anyone, I mean… I was convinced nobody would ever like me enough to date me, much less to save me from anyone. She’s a dreamer, unlike me. But then I met you, and somehow I found really complicated answering she was wrong, because I’ve realized as days went by that I did like you, and that I probably needed you a little to make my days lighter… I felt so delusional,” he said. Dean went and kissed him in the cheek. “The point is, I love you too, and _I_ was wrong. You are that prince, and you saved me.”

Dean’s heart hammered in this chest. “In that case, you’re my prince as well. You saved me from monotony and loneliness,” he replied and Castiel smiled.

The next Dean knew was that Castiel had slimmed his lips against his own, knocking in a kiss all the air of his lungs. Dean couldn’t feel more into it, pressing against Castiel even more, and delving his tongue inside his mouth when he had the chance.

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for prying,” Castiel said in between gasps, while Dean had made his way to his ear, biting and sucking out of it. “I will play hard with you,” he added, taking Dean by the hair, and moving his head so they could start kissing again.

“If anything, I’m already hard,” Dean replied when they parted, the breath Castiel released while laughing tickling in his face.

“I’m telling you seriously,” Castiel said, taking Dean’s sweater off, and kissing him again as soon as it was out their way.

“It’s okay to me, as soon as you don’t stop loving me,” Dean replied. He intended it as a joke, but Castiel probably didn’t take it like that, if his serious expression meant anything.

“I would never stop loving you,” he said, and with the kiss that came after, Dean lost control of himself, completely.

Dean didn’t remember how they made it to Castiel’s room after that, stomping over their own clothes. Dean didn’t remember how they reached the bed, but by the pain in his toe he was sure he had stomped over something else, harder than a pair of shoes or his socks. Probably the wardrobe. Yeah, surely it was the wardrobe. Dean didn’t remember how they got finally naked, but he remembered in ecstasy how good Castiel’s cock felt against his own, scraping against each other while they made out. Dean didn’t remember all the nonsense he said to his lover in between kisses, and bites, and moans, but he remembered Castiel asking him about his chest tattoo, and Dean explaining him how he had gotten it, and what it meant. Dean didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but he remembered how hard Castiel dug his nails into Dean’s back while they were jerking each other off. Dean didn’t know why he woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, hours after, but he remembered seeing Castiel sleeping on his stomach beside him, with a smile on his face, and feeling they were starting something long lasting together.

Dean didn’t remember a lot of things, about that night or his life in general, but he remembered how good sex was. However, after spending his first night together with Castiel, he realized making love with someone was infinitely better.

 

 

When Dean woke up for the second time it was already ten in the morning. At first he got scared, it was way later than five. They needed to go to the bakery…

“Stop yelling, it’s Tuesday,” Castiel mumbled, his face still pressed against the pillow. Dean turned around to the bedside table and took his watch. God bless Casio, because it had a big ‘TUE’ printed in its screen. Castiel wasn’t confused.

Dean placed himself better in bed, closer to Castiel than before. His boyfriend opened his eyes and turned his head to see him.

“Do you always sleep like that? On your stomach?” he asked and Castiel turned completely so they could get tangled. Castiel kissed Dean’s chest and Dean already felt his dick waking up.

“I usually do, when I’m not sharing a single bed with someone else,” he teased and yawned.

Dean laughed and looked at the bedroom window, furrowing his brows a little. “It’s snowing,” he said.

“It's not surprising, it’s almost Christmas,” Castiel replied, curling up on Dean even more.

“We could spend all day in bed,” Dean suggested some minutes later. He felt Castiel's smile against his skin, and that made Dean’s cock twirl a little more. The baker started licking Dean’s neck enthusiastically seconds later, but Dean stopped him before he couldn’t control himself anymore. “Hey, Cas, if we’re going to spend all day having sex and stuff, I have to go to the drugstore, and you know it.” Castiel groaned in response. “I’m not the one that only had one bottle of lube at home and that expired two years ago,” Dean added, making Castiel roll his eyes.

“I’ve told you. It was a gift Gabriel gave me when I was younger. I never used it,” Castiel replied and complained a little when Dean got up, leaving him alone in the bed.

“But now we will… Gabriel is weird, anyway. Sam has never gifted me sexual products,” Dean said, bending down to search for his pants.

“Sam is not Gabriel,” Castiel replied simply and stayed quiet for a while.

Dean finished getting dressed and walked to the bed, kissing Castiel on the hair. He groaned and sat up. “Bring me paper and a pen,” Castiel asked suddenly and Dean arched his brow, but did as he was told. “Since you’re already going out, go to the supermarket as well and bring me this,” he said, scrapping words over the paper.

When he finished, he handed Dean the paper, who read. “Boneless beef… carrots, potatoes, peppers… onions… oil… what the hell, Cas?”

“Do you think you’re the only one fulfilling promises here?” he replied. His hair was messier than ever, but Dean wanted to crawl his fingers on it and dishevel it even more. “After we conclude our sex marathon, I will make you the stew.”

Castiel winked at him, and before Dean could close the bedroom door, he whispered him that he loved him. It was amazing to be able to say that. Again and again, and forever.

He took the keys, and got out of the house. It was snowing more than he imagined, dense snowflakes wetting his leather jacket. Dean was without an umbrella and he would probably get all soaked when he arrived Castiel’s house again, but he couldn’t care less.

Finally his life was looking promising. Finally he had found his _little slice of Heaven_.


	11. Apple Pie

**Two years later**

 

In the past, if asked about it, Castiel would have said that he was destined to be a delinquent debtor forever, perpetually single and wretched. However, he was glad to admit he had been wrong. Nowadays, Castiel couldn’t complain about his life at all. It was prosperous and happy.

The bakery was working better than ever. After Castiel fixed all his financial issues, paying off all the debts he had acquired over the years with his wholesalers and the local authorities, it was as if the store had reawakened. Castiel felt in peace, free, with no pressure over his shoulders, in such a way he started trying new recipes and cakes to sell, planning commercial strategies and even studying new ways to promote the store. The bakery staff felt Castiel’s reborn determination, and they all worked hand in hand with him to improve it. It was a long succession of stressing months and unceasing work, but none of them regretted a single minute of them.

As weeks went by they started perceiving how it was all bearing fruit. Tables were never free for more than half an hour, and some people from other towns like Olathe or Shawnee began to buy there, mostly by the weekends. Even some people from Lawrence appeared at some point, and Castiel had a hard time believing it was not a dream.

“If it keeps being like this, we will have to bake double,” Benny had said one day, and he hadn’t been wrong. After selling-out all the food they baked daily for two weeks in a row, they knew something had changed.

They needed to get bigger.

At first the staff decided they would handle it all by themselves, but when Castiel realized Benny was working too much, he hired a new baker. Elizabeth ended up being a good addition to the staff, qualified and attentive. Benny learned a lot from her, and vice versa, sharing techniques and recipes with each other. It didn’t only helped them as professional bakers, but also gave the bakery a higher status.

After that they decided they had to scale the tables section up and restyle it. That worried Castiel for a while, since he literally had no space to do that. For a while he considered that buying a new shop was the only solution, but he knew it meant a bigger budget than the one he could afford and he didn’t want to risk that much yet. Perhaps, in the future he would be able… he had already have several problems with money and bad decisions, he wouldn’t push his luck like that ever again.

“I think I will sell my property. I’m old. I wanna retire,” Ruby had said one day while drinking her espresso. She was not old by any chance, if anything she was younger than Castiel, but she liked to exaggerate things.

Castiel had already lent an ear when he heard that. After all, she was the owner of the yoga shop exactly beside the bakery. Castiel would negotiate with her without fuss and feathers, calmly, and then…

“Amazing. How much?” Dean had asked, although, because he couldn’t keep it quiet no matter how hard he tried. Ruby had raised her eyebrow, and smirked at him.

“Are you interested?” she had asked, half excited and half provoking. After all, Dean and she had never gotten on very well.

“As you have no idea,” Dean had replied in a similar tone, and for the next two months he battled silently with her for the property. He got it his way, in the end, buying it for a more than reasonable price.

Castiel had to close the bakery for three days, and there were concrete and dust everywhere, but the final result was incredible. Dean suggested hiring Krissy to give Claire and Kevin a hand dealing with customers, and it all run smoothly.

 _A Little Slice of Heaven_ was a successful business, with a brilliant future ahead.

If Castiel was honest, Dean had a lot to do with it. With the bakery success, and with his happiness in general. Castiel couldn’t help it. He loved Dean more than words could tell. The thing was that Dean was not only a great boyfriend, who supported him when Castiel felt bad and hugged him when he was tired, but also an excellent accountant who dealt with numbers better than anyone and taught Castiel tricks to make the most on the money he earned.

After being fired from Sandover, Dean decided to take a _‘sabbatical year,’_ as he called it, focusing all his attention to help both Castiel and Bobby with their businesses. In the meantime, he won contacts here and there, and by the end of the year he had a promising list of potential clients. Dean was happy, Castiel could tell.

They worked perfectly in every level imaginable: as best friends (Dean insisted on saying they were friends as well as they were a couple), as co-workers, as lovers (Castiel had never been interested in sex before, but sex with Dean was invigorating and powerful, passionate and tempestuous), and as roommates. Castiel didn’t remember when Dean stopped pretending he lived in his hired apartment and moved all his stuff to Castiel’s house. According to Castiel, they had practically lived together since day one, but Dean delayed the official confirmation for months. Castiel understood him, though. Dean was scared of taking things too far too soon, and Castiel was scared as well. It was all new and foreign for them, and neither of them wanted to slip or screw things up.

Fears aside, they’d made it, and everybody at Overland Park knew they were a solid and stable couple. Castiel could had never asked for someone better than Dean, and he knew Dean thought the same about him. They shared all with each other, the good stuff and the bad moments, and barely argue.

Sadly, that particular day was one of the days they did.

“How can it be that you have no idea?” Castiel asked to Dean, the both of them at the bakery counter. Dean was scrapping some numbers on a notebook, and Castiel felt mad because he was not paying attention to him.

“It can be because that’s what happened: _I have no idea_ ,” he replied sarcastically and kept on writing without an attempt to turn his head and look at Castiel for at least a second. That made him madder.

“It’s really important for me, and you know it. Why are you acting so cold about this?” Castiel asked, with a knot in his throat. Dean shrugged his shoulders, but unlike the last time he turned around and looked at him.

“Basically because it’s ten in the morning and you’ve asked me the same thing almost thirty times since we woke up,” he replied. Something in Castiel’s face should had touched a chord in Dean because he left the pen aside and took Castiel’s face with his hands. If Castiel wasn’t so angry, he would had appreciated the gesture a little more. “If I could help you, I would, and you know it. I love you and everything but don’t ask me the same thing over and over again,” he said and perked him in the lips.

When they parted, Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes. “I love you too but I’m angry,” he said.

“Don’t be angry with me, I’m not the one who lost it,” Dean replied and moved to write in the notebook again. Castiel knew he hadn’t said that with a bad intention, but it hurt.

“You worked at home yesterday,” he tried.

“When you came back home last night you were wearing it,” Dean replied, as if it wasn’t as important as it definitely was.

“I know!” Castiel replied, stubbornly. “Then we had dinner and I was wearing it as well. When we went to bed, although...” he looked at the tables and behind him to see if someone was hearing him, “you undressed me.”

“Yeah, and then we made love until we fell asleep. I remember that, and my ass certainly does as well,” Dean murmured jokingly and turned around again. “Cas, last night you dick was inside me more than once. Forgive me if I don’t remember where you left your chain.”

Castiel blushed at Dean’s answer. “It’s not the chain that worries me,” he replied.

“I know, babe,” Dean sighed. “I promise I will help you finding it but now we can’t do it. Are you sure it’s not by the bedside?” Castiel nodded. “And in between all our clothes?” Castiel nodded as well. “I don’t know where else it could be.”

“What if I’ve lost it?” Castiel asked and Dean took him by the hand.

“You didn’t lose a thing, it’s somewhere at home. We will see later,” Dean replied and pointed out at the other side of the counter, where Jody was waiting for Castiel to sell her a Black Forest Cake.

Castiel resumed his working activities and left the topic die. However, it was still in his mind. It was not trivial matter. It was his grandmother’s wedding rings what they were talking about. He wanted to know where he left them, as soon as possible.

“Brother, would you lend me a hand and pick up Noah and Isabella from school? Andrea is sick, my poor girl,” Benny asked him hours later, when Castiel was dealing with the cash register. For some reason it didn’t want to open and he was starting to feel really nervous.

“Where is Dean? Can’t he go instead?” Castiel asked, walking to the kitchen, where Benny and Elizabeth were preparing cheese cookies.

Benny made a face. “I have no idea,” he replied.

Apparently nobody _had an idea_ of anything that day.

Castiel accepted the task, after some minutes of complaining, took the Impala keys and left the bakery. Perhaps, breathing some fresh air would help him to calm his nerves.

Noah and Isabella were amazing as always, and Castiel had a great time with them in the car. Noah was obsessed with some creepy-crawly things called Minions, or something similar. Isabella pretended not to like them as much as her brother, however. She was older, she said, but Castiel knew she had some toys and Barbie dolls in her bedroom as well.

“McDonald's, uncle Castiel!” Noah started yelling at some point but Castiel paid him no attention. Some blocks later he had to, since the kid started crying. Really loud. “I want to go to McDonald's! I want a Happy Meal!” he screamed with Isabella rolling her eyes at his side.

It was weird for Noah to behave like that, he was always polite and well-mannered, but Castiel was soft with kids, and after Noah told him in between tears Benny never brought them to eat fast food, he considered it and had lunch with the kids. It was a good time. They ate outside, the sun warming their skin and the autumn wind messing up with their hair.

“Can we go with you at the bakery today?” Isabella asked after they paid and got into the Impala again. “Mom is sick in bed, probably she wants to sleep and all Noah does lately is running in the living room when he has no homework to do…”

Castiel looked at her with a wary expression. “Won’t you get bored?” he asked.

Isabella shook her head. “Charlie will give us colour pencils.”

“And her Hermione doll,” Noah added, interested. Castiel wasn’t so sure about that, though. Charlie didn’t allow anyone to touch that particular doll.

The journey to the bakery was quiet, Noah choosing to play with his cellphone and Isabella looking through the window, practically asleep. If Castiel wasn’t so worried about the wedding rings he would have suspected they had been plotting something way sooner.

However, he realized there was something weird when he discovered, parking the Impala, that Andrea was outside the bakery, in the flesh, looking as healthy as a horse. The kids run to her, and she hugged them with a smile. When she raised her head and looked at Castiel, she winked at him and answered nothing when he asked what she was doing there.

“Let me put you this,” she said when she released the kids and shown Castiel a hanky. Castiel asked her what she was doing and why, but Andrea was persistent and didn’t stop until she covered Castiel’s eyes with the piece of fabric. “It’s okay, you will understand very soon.” Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest. He had no idea what was happening there. Andrea escorted him to inside the bakery, the kids running in front of them. When they reached a particular spot she stopped and made Castiel stop with her. “Don’t uncover your eyes,” she said. “Don’t cheat.”

Then, silence. “What is happening, Andrea? What are you doing? Benny told me you had a stomach ache!” he yelled but nobody answered.

All this wasn’t helping with his shitty day. He was losing his patience.

When he tried, seconds later, to take the hanky out of his face someone took his hand. Castiel knew that touch, he had felt that skin before…

“Dean?” he asked, confused. His boyfriend confirmed it and took Castiel’s hand, kissing it gently. It was incredible how such a little gesture could thrill Castiel that much only if it came from Dean. He took the hanky and uncovered Castiel’s eyes. When Castiel saw him, he realized he was as excited as he was nervous.

As well, he saw there was nobody apart from them in the bakery. “Where’s everybody? Andrea… you know. Benny told me she was sick on the stomach and… did he lie to me?”

Any further question was cut when Dean leaned in and kissed him full in the lips. It ended up being longer and hotter than anything Castiel thought was able to do in a public space, but when they parted and Dean looked at him with those eyes full of love, Castiel knew he would do it again.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, gasping. “Andrea is perfectly fine and Benny lied to you. For me.”

“What?” Castiel asked, as agitated as his boyfriend.

“Well, I had to use my plan B. It’s not his fault. I mean, I wanted to do this at night, when it was just you and me. But you were so worried that I couldn’t… I love you too much, I don’t want to make you suffer,” Dean blurted, confusing Castiel a little more.

“I’m not understanding…”

“First of all I want you to know these have been the best years of my life, Cas. Since I’ve met you. You make it all worth… I’m a happy person, _you_ make me happy.” He put his hands on Castiel’s jaw and caressed him, making him close the eyes. “I love you, and I wanted to do this in a lot of different places, but somehow no option I’ve thought about was as perfect as here. We met here, we got to know each other here, we felt in love here… we kissed everywhere here and even… you know, we made it here, more than once. I don’t know you but I feel this is our place in the world. It feels natural me doing this right now…”

“What are you talking about? Don’t you know this isn’t the best day-?”

“I don’t want us to be boyfriends anymore, Castiel,” Dean replied seriously, and Castiel’s blood froze. They were the most horrid seconds of his life, until Dean had pity of him and went on. “I want us to be husbands now,” he added and knelt in front of him, with his eyes a little wet. Castiel had a hard time understanding what was happening until he miraculously did and knelt as well to hug Dean. “You didn’t let me finish,” he joked, hugging the baker back. Castiel muttered that he loved him again, and again, and again, until Dean broke the embrace. “Let me finish, it’s a traditional procedure,” he added and kissed Castiel, who was already tearing up a bit. “Would you marry me, Cas?” he asked, extremely moved by Castiel’s reaction.

“Of course,” Castiel said and they melted in a series of kisses and professions of neverending love that finished when someone whistled in their right.

It was Krissy, and Castiel discovered it was not only her that was watching them with a joyful expression in her face, but all the important people in Castiel’s life, including Sam, Sarah and their beautiful daughter, who had come to visit them some days ago. Now Castiel understood why.

Dean took something from his pocket and handed it to Castiel. It was his grandmother ring, he would recognize it anywhere.

“They made a kickass job, taking into account they made it in a few hours,” he said and Castiel took one of them. Beside the old _‘Anna & James’_ inscription his grandparents had put long time ago there was a new one that said _'Dean & Cas.’_ Dean sighed, some tears still forming in his eyes. “I didn’t want to lie to you, we promised we wouldn't lie to each other or hide us things... but I had to.”

“You were hiding a marriage proposal, so I’m can’t be angry,” Castiel replied, and after hugged his now fiancé as hard as he could.

“Get a room!” Gabriel yelled, making the others laugh, while they were congratulating the happy couple and resuming their activities at the bakery. Dean flipped him off. After two years of mutual respect and friendship, he could finally do that without being hit in the nose.

Dean and Cas tried the rings, and incredibly they fitted them perfectly. Probably it was true what Dean said every time something good happened to them. _Karma existed, and it was their friend._

The rest of the day went by in a flash, working non-stop and listening to Dean announcing their engagement to every customer that had crossed the door.

His bakery wasn’t the only one with a promising future ahead...


	12. TIMESTAMP :: Birthday Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of January, and Dean is celebrating his birthday.  
> Castiel knows exactly how to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi people!!  
> This is something I needed to do in order to THANK you all for the fic's reception.  
> I'm absolutely in love with every comment you make, every kudo, and every hit or bookmark.  
> It means you liked what you read, or you're planning to read what I've done, and it means A LOT.  
> I've devoted a lot of time to this story, so you paying attention to it and thanking it is the best present I could receive.
> 
> So... thanks!!
> 
> This timestamp is placed in between CHAPTER 10 and the EPILOGUE.  
> And it's all fluff, but it includes one or two conversations I wanted to write in between characters, so I hope you like.
> 
> Every comment and kudo and recommendation is welcome, and it warms my heart.  
> It's not betaed, by the way. Every mistake is mine, and mine alone.

   
 

 

“Gingerbread! Gingerbread!” Mary yelled while running from one side to the other side of the bakery, again and again. She was holding a plastic bag full of gingerbread men cookies strongly with both hands, looking as if she was hugging them. And with a good reason: Castiel had just baked and gave them to her as a special present, even though Christmas had passed weeks ago.

Mary loved gingerbread cookies and that was enough reason for her uncle to spoil the little girl. She couldn’t look happier, and that was all that mattered to him. 

Castiel smiled at her, so young and full of energy, while cashing up. Gabriel, though, looked like he had another opinion about his daughter’s stamina.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” he said, huffing, in faked resignation. When Castiel turned his gaze to look at him, clueless, Gabriel clarified. “Running like this at this time of the day. I mean, it’s practically midnight! I can barely move my legs right now!” 

Castiel smirked, shaking his head affectionately. “It’s not  _ midnight _ , it’s just  _ eight _ , and you’re way older than her. I’m afraid that’s the reason why you’re tired and she isn’t. It’s January, Gabriel, don’t get grumpy,” Castiel said to his cousin, kneeling to take a couple bills that had fallen to the floor. Castiel groaned when he stood up again. “If this makes you feel better, my knee joints hurt a lot as well. It’s just  _we _ are old, Gabriel, the two of us,” he added and Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. 

“What can we do against that?” Gabriel asked, jokingly. “Good thing is we have our lives already resolved. For instance, I think I wouldn’t have the strength to build the music school from square one if I had to do it now. My eight hours of peaceful sleep is all I need these days, thank you very much. To be honest,” he added, cautious, “I don’t know how  _ you  _ do it… five in the morning, even in weekends, that’s wild! For real, how many hours do you sleep?”

Castiel considered his answer. In all honesty, he was not used to sleeping more than six hours a day, but in those weeks in particular he slept even less, taking into account Dean and him preferred doing some other  _activities _ in bed rather than falling asleep… “Less than you, you can be sure about that,” Castiel replied, though, blushing slightly at the several memories that had crossed his mind.

Before he could say something embarrassing enough to make the blush in his face more noticeable for Gabriel, Mary started yelling again, stopping the conversation completely. “Dean! Dean! Look! Uncle Castiel gave me gingerbread!” she said, running to the accountant, who was at the farthest table beside the window, drinking a double coffee and working with several folders and contracts he had spread all over the table.

In the last month Castiel had seen Dean interact with Mary, and being completely honest, Castiel thought it was beautiful. Mary liked him plenty, and Dean always smiled when she was around, playing with her toys or listening to the stories she told him with attention and respect. Any other adult would find all that boring... but not Dean. It was stupid of Castiel, but he wanted to see Dean interact with as many children as he could. It was as if kids woke the best part of him, and Castiel was happy to be a privileged witness of that.

Dean would be a great father, Castiel was sure about that.

As a way to prove his point, Dean lifted Mary up and sat her in his lap. Castiel smiled at the gesture.

“What are you doing?” she asked and Dean started explaining how he was reading all those papers in the table, analyzing information, adding and subtracting money to _‘_ _ help uncle Cas’ _ . Mary looked a little confused at Dean’s explanation, but still opened the bag and offered him a cookie. “You are always helping uncle Castiel,” she said and handed him a gingerbread man. “Does he say  _ thank you _ ? Mom tells me people always have to thank.” 

“Your mother is right, and yes,  _ uncle Castiel _ thanks me properly, everyday...” was Dean’s answer, while eating the cookie, both of them completely clueless Castiel was observing and listening to the conversation, with his heart beating wildly in his chest. “I love your uncle a lot,” Dean added, and Castiel felt himself blushing at Dean’s statement. He already knew that, but every time he heard it, it was as breathtaking as the first one, over the phone, all those weeks ago. Gabriel was looking at him with a cocky smile, Castiel was sure about that, but he didn’t look back at him. Castiel only had eyes for Dean. “Are you okay with that?” the accountant asked to the little girl, sounding somehow worried for the kid’s answer. It was cute to see.

“Of course!” Mary answered with a genuine smile, taking a cookie for herself and eating it. ”You’re uncle Cas' boyfriend. I know, mom told me that too. Mom tells me a lot of things.” She paused and considered her next words. “Uncle Cas’ eyes are super blue these days. I think he is happy. I like seeing him happy.”

Dean was left speechless by Mary’s answer, and Castiel understood him. Castiel was astonished himself. 

“Oh my God, how old are you?” Dean asked in a whisper. Mary chuckled and made a gesture with her hand, the index and the middle finger up. “Two or  _ twenty _ ?” Dean asked again, and Mary replied she was  _ not old yet . _ Dean smiled, and tickled her in the armpit. Mary shuffled and laughed loudly, trying to release herself from the attack.

“They’re gonna throw the coffee all over the documents and I will kill them both,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes, but Castiel was still looking at his boyfriend and niece with a goofy smile in his face, Gabriel completely ignored in the background. “Earth to Castiel! Earth to Castiel!” Gabriel said, louder than before, and shook his hand. Castiel woke up from the lethargy and looked at him a little ashamed. 

Miraculously neither Mary or Dean listened to Gabriel, really into their game.

“Sorry,” Castiel replied. “It’s just I— ”

“You love the guy, yeah, I know,” Gabriel interrupted. He pretended to be disgusted by that, but Castiel knew he was acting out. Surely he was, after all they went through together the last couple of months. Gabriel smiled cheekily seconds later to prove Castiel’s point. “You know… since that time we argued in the kitchen about Dean and you told me you were experiencing… how was that?” 

_ “ Peculiar body symptoms _ when I looked at him, or when he talked to me and shared with me aspects of his life,” Castiel replied, sighing deeply when Gabriel started laughing. His cousin had always reacted a little foolishly about Castiel’s pompous vocabulary.

“Exactly that!  _ Peculiar body symptoms _ … jeez, that’s a weird way of saying you wanted to bang the guy,” Gabriel laughed again. “Whatever, since that moment I knew something would happen. Something big between you two, I mean.” 

Castiel opened his eyes in surprise, but Gabriel stopped him.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I hated the guy’s guts. He was pretentious, and full of shit…” Castiel tried to interrupt Gabriel, but he didn’t let him. “I know he is not, don’t get touchy, but that was the impression I had, okay?” he clarified, and Castiel nodded. “The worst part was looking at you and realizing it was not about a couple of  _ body symptoms _ , as you said. You were deep over heels with someone I was sure that would hurt you… and I was seriously worried about that. Never in my life I’d seen you like that, and the first time I did it was because of a prick… it made me so mad. I’ve always wanted to see you in love, you deserve the best, cousin… but I didn’t want to see you in love with  _ him _ .”

Gabriel sighed and Castiel’s chest constricted a little. Gabriel had never told him that.

They remained in silence for a while, Dean and Mary’s mumbles behind.

“I was sure he had no feelings for you, that he was only seducing you to give Zac the property… but then one day I knew I was wrong, which made me madder,” Gabriel confessed. 

Castiel tilted his head at that. 

“It was stupid, but I knew there was something going on with him as well. I was here, chatting with someone I don’t remember,” Gabriel said. “What I remember is they were being really dense and I needed a distraction… so I tried to find  _something _ in the surroundings. That’s when I saw Dean. He was at the counter, taking care of a guy that had a weird face. Dean handed him a bag and asked him for the money. It turned out the guy didn’t have a cent, or that’s what he said. Dean asked as politely as he could (you know how he is), to give him the money or return the bagels, but the store was full of people and the guy left running as soon as he could. Dean was really mad, I saw his face, he was red. Now that I know him better, probably he was frustrated over the fact he couldn’t do a thing to make the guy come back…” Gabriel sighed. “Some people at the store realized, and looked at him who raised his hand. _ ‘Don’t worry people, I got it covered,‘ _ he said and took a couple bills from his wallet. He opened the cash register and put the money inside. I couldn’t believe that shit… but then Charlie appeared and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, comforting him. I couldn’t hear her, but he was louder and I heard him saying something like,  _‘Cas doesn’t deserve dealing with thieves. He has too many fuckers to deal with already, including me.’ _ Charlie made a face when she heard that, and it looked like she was lecturing him, but I couldn’t listen a thing after that... His face, though,” he said and looked at Castiel, who was shocked by the anecdote, and a bit tearful. “His face said a lot. He was torn, and that bothered me… the guy shouldn’t be torn about anything. He was here with a purpose we all knew… fuck. I was so angry I talked about Dean for an hour to Kali, until she told me to shut up…” Gabriel smirked. He put a hand on Castiel’s, who looked touched by the story. “I hated to know he had some sort of feelings for you, but only Kali knew what I thought. After that, every time I came here all I did was observing you two…”

“That’s why you came a lot when Dean started working with us?” Castiel asked.

Gabriel nodded. “I needed to see it all with my own eyes… Now that I know better I think it was enough with the way you looked at him, and the way he looked back at you. It was full of admiration… it still  _ is _ full of it! I think that’s the word that fits you two best… you  _admire _ each other...” Gabriel paused. “I’m happy for you, I really am,” he said and smiled at his cousin. Dean and Mary laughed in the background and Gabriel smirked. “Even my daughter loves him a little… I wouldn’t put a spoke in the wheel.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied, taking the tears out of his eyes with his free hand. 

“I’m sorry to hit him in the nose, by the way,” Gabriel said, blushing a little. 

Castiel smiled at the reaction. “Did you tell  _him _ you were sorry?” he asked, and Gabriel nodded. “So, that’s enough for me. Really,” he added when Gabriel bowed his brows. “All I want is my family getting along, my loved people all together. You and Dean are really important to me. Essential, to be honest. If you hadn’t talked by yourselves at some point I would have tried to make it work on my own… I  _needed _ it to make it work.”

“You don’t need it, it  _is _ working, cousin! After all, aren’t we going to celebrate your man’s birthday today with a dinner all together in my house?” Gabriel replied and Castiel smirked. “If you think about it, our family is a little dysfunctional, isn’t it? It’s a weird family tree… but I cannot say it doesn’t look good anyway. I like your in-laws.”

“They are the best,” Castiel confirmed and Gabriel nodded, calling out to his child so they could leave. The kid turned her head to watch her father and gave him a smile. Dean left her go and the girl run to the counter, taking Gabriel’s hand on her free one.

“Let’s go home, Mary, we have a table to set,” Gabriel said and Mary yelled in excitement. “Don’t dare to come late. There will be nine starving people and a classic pot roast to be tasted at home. If you make us wait, love birds, you won’t even drink the cocktails I’m going to prepare.” Castiel and Dean shared a conspiratorial glance and smiled when Mary asked what _ love birds _ meant. “ _ These two _ are love birds, kiddo,” Gabriel replied when he opened the front door, pointing out at Dean and Castiel. “Ask your mother when we arrive, she will explain you better.”

“Coward!” Dean yelled immediately after Gabriel waved at them both. 

The youngest Sandover chuckled. “I’m the bravest guy in this town. I’m hosting Sasquatch and his family in my house and I’m still not trembling,” he replied and finally closed the door, leaving Dean and Castiel alone.

It was silly of him, but Castiel, even weeks after they declared their mutual feelings for each other, felt electricity running through his veins every time he was alone with Dean. Feeling loved like that was an alien sensation for him, intense yet exciting. 

Before his thoughts could be read by his boyfriend, Castiel spoke. “I don’t understand what he said. What’s a  _ Sasquatch _ ?” 

Dean chuckled because of the question and shook his head. “Sasquatch is Bigfoot, don’t you know that?” he said and Castiel denied. Dean rolled his eyes. “What did you say to me the other day?” he paused. “ _‘_ _ You need more free time, Dean’ _ ? I think  _you _ need more free time to watch some movies with me as well.”

Castiel smiled affectionately. “We spent the whole Christmas day watching movies,” he replied and walked to the table Dean was sit. Dean offered him the chair beside him and Castiel took it and sat, as close as possible. 

“It was not any  _ movie _ . It was  _ Star Wars _ and I needed you to watch it so we could have our movie date four days later. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it,” Dean replied and Castiel elbowed him playfully. Of course he had, even when Castiel was not sure if it was the fact of being in an official date with Dean, the movie itself or the events that came after that. “Come here,” Dean added and Castiel moved the chair a little closer, even when that looked physically impossible. “How many hours until we have to leave?”

Castiel chuckled and kissed Dean in the cheek. “I wouldn’t say  _ hours _ , taking into account it’s almost nine. Give us thirty minutes, tops. And that’s why we’re driving the Impala...” Dean groaned. “It’s our family, we don’t have to make them wait.” Dean tensed after that phrase and for a moment Castiel thought he had said something wrong. Did he overstep his boundaries? Did he…?

“Say that again,” Dean said, instead, and after that Castiel was the one surprised. 

“ _ It’s our family ? _ ” Castiel repeated, and he had no time to add anything else, because Dean attacked him, colliding their mouths together in a hungry kiss. It was breathtaking for Castiel how much emotional Dean got with such simple gestures and words. 

“Sorry for my outburst, it’s just…” Dean said when they parted, and Castiel caressed Dean’s cheek with his hand. “I’d spent so much time on my own that I can’t… I can’t believe this is happening to me now,” he chuckled and laid his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “I like how it sounds, you know?  _ Our family _ … yours and mine, all together, getting along,” he murmured and Castiel embraced Dean tenderly. 

“They are getting along perfectly fine,” Castiel replied and closed his eyes. “Look at Sam and Gabriel, they seem like really good friends. I’m glad they met.”

Dean nodded.

It was good, being together like that. Castiel felt in peace, like nothing bad could happen to him if Dean was at his side. Castiel turned his head a little bit and looked at the papers on the table. He smirked. It was not only a feeling, it was a fact. He moved his left hand to Dean’s hair and massaged it slowly. Dean made a sound and kissed Castiel’s neck, electrifying every single nerve in Castiel’s body.

“We could totally make it right now. I want to fuck you,” Dean said in a whisper and Castiel’s heartbeat intensified. It didn’t fail to surprise him how all those things Dean said affected him that much, both emotionally and physically. If that was a consequence of feeling loved and loving someone, Castiel was glad he was able to experience it with such a remarkable man.

“We should negotiate that since I want to fuck you as well,” Castiel replied and Dean tensed in his arms. It was good knowing Dean was as affected as him.

“ _ Rock, paper, scissors _ to know who the winner is,” Dean said and chuckled. He was both silly and striking, and Castiel loved exactly that about him. 

“We could do it twice, don’t you think? First you fuck me, then I fuck you…” Castiel suggested quietly and Dean groaned in response. “Sadly,” he added, “we only have twenty five minutes until we have to go, and I should perform those acts with proper time and patience…”

Dean laid his head on Castiel’s shoulder and nodded. “I know. I want us to take our time too,” he kissed Castiel’s cheek. “We’re still taking a day off tomorrow, aren’t we?” he asked and Castiel confirmed it. “We will have sex all day, then.”

“We will  _ make love _ all day, you mean,” Castiel corrected amused and Dean chuckled.

“Exactly that…” Dean replied a little embarrassed. “It’s just…” he sighed. “I still need to improve my romantic vocabulary, you know?”

Castiel rolled his eyes with affection and kissed him in the cheek. “I was just messing with you, assbutt,” he said and stood up from his chair. Dean asked him where he was going but Castiel paid no attention to the question and kept on talking. “The language people use can be powerful, but theirs actions are what’s really essential. You can say it in whatever way you want:  _ have sex _ , _ make love _ … it’s all the same. Whichever expression you choose, you will still look at me in the eyes when you’re about to come, as you always do, with fondness and love, and I will know how you feel. Your sole stare makes me tremble,” he concluded and walked to the kitchen, disappearing inside it. “I don’t need any words,” he added, louder to be heard by Dean.

The accountant groaned, crystal clear to Castiel in the silence of the bakery and made him smiled. “You’re making me hard with only your words, Cas, of course they matter,” Dean said cheekily at the same time Castiel appeared behind the counter again. 

“We cannot get involved in any sexual activity right now, we have a meeting to attend. Think about Zachariah in a leotard, that could work,” Castiel replied, walking to the table. 

Dean screamed in reply, both amused and scared. “Oh my God,” he said. “Don’t say such a thing or I will never be hard again! That was an horrible image! Goddammit, I—” he paused when he noticed what Castiel was doing. “What’s that?” Dean added, and Castiel simply put the tray on the table, and ordered the documents inside Dean’s folder without saying a word. 

“What do you think it is?” Castiel asked finally, taking a lighter out of his jeans pocket. He took the small cake he had brought and lighted the candle. “I know we’re celebrating your birthday with the whole family in a while but I couldn’t help feeling a little selfish...” he explained, blushing. “We only have twenty minutes, but I wanted to save them for us,” Castiel took the small cake with both hands and held it in front of Dean. “Make a wish.”

Dean’s reaction was priceless, both surprised and deeply touched by the present, as if he wasn’t worth the effort. Castiel wanted to kiss Dean’s lack of confidence off of him. In Castiel’s opinion, he was worth every effort, every present, every sacrifice.

“All my wishes came true when I met you, Cas,” Dean replied without blowing out the candle on the cake. Now it was Castiel’s turn to feel worthless for such a love declaration. Perhaps they both needed to work on their self-esteem. Together.

“You surely have another one,” Castiel said, fighting the tears of emotion that were threatening to leave his eyes. Dean made a face, as if considering his options and finally blew the candle. 

“I won't tell you what I wished cause it includes you,” he joked to ease the atmosphere a little and Castiel smirked. The baker put the cake of the table, taking out the candle and cutting it in two halves. 

“It could be anything, then,” Castiel joked back, and handed Dean his half of the cake and a spoon. “Wishes function similarly to words, though, in my opinion,” he added, eating his slice. “It’s not the fact that you wished something, but the risks you take to make it real.”

Dean nodded, looking moved by Castiel’s thought. They stayed quiet for a couple of minutes, eating the cake in compassionate silence. When Dean finished his slice, he left the plate and the spoon in the table and coughed. 

“I will work my ass off to make it true,” he said in a serious tone, as if he had been thinking and analyzing the topic all those minutes ago. Castiel stopped eating, surprised by Dean’s declaration and smiled at him.

“I know you will,” he replied, leaving the remaining bits of the cake uneaten and climbing on to Dean’s lap. It was a dangerous position, taking into account they were already fighting their intense urge to touch and feel each other’s skin, but Castiel couldn’t help it. His legs were placed in each side of the chair and his hands in each side of Dean’s face. “You always do your best,” he said and touched their foreheads together. Dean closed his eyes, embracing Castiel in the waist. “Happy birthday, Dean,” the baker said and Dean smiled, leaning in and kissing him, softly, as if they were both consciously trying not to get carried away by their instincts. 

“I love you,” Dean said in a murmur when they parted and Castiel couldn’t help kissing him again after repeating the phrase. “If we’re going to finally escalate this we’ll have to turn off the lights,” Dean added, snorting, “and add curtains. We need curtains in every window. I don’t know you but I don’t like exhibitionism...” 

“I agree with everything,” said Castiel, separating their heads a little and raising his eyebrows, in a conspiratorial way. Dean smiled at that. Castiel loved when Dean smiled. Castiel looked at his watch and groaned. “However, we only have ten minutes,” he said, somehow disappointed. “Remember… my cousin Zachariah in pink panties—”

“Stop!” Dean yelled, laughing and hitting Castiel playfully in the arm. The baker couldn’t help laughing as well. When Castiel made an attempt to move from Dean’s lap, he stopped it. “We only have ten minutes, so I want ten minutes of you above me,” he said.

“I don’t know if that’s sexy or endearing. Probably both,” Castiel replied and perked Dean in the lips. “I promise I won’t leave this spot, just let me,” he added and stood up a little bit, in order to turn around and take a little box from the table. Dean hadn’t noticed it until that moment. “I’ve already said it, but it’s okay if I repeat it… Happy birthday, Dean!” He handed Dean the box, who took it completely surprised. “And happy two months anniversary, I suppose.” 

Dean looked at his boyfriend warily. “How come, two months? It was almost Christmas when we—”

“I’m counting since the first day you kissed me,” Castiel interrupted, and Dean blushed imperceptibly. “After considering the events I think that was the beginning of our romantic association.”

“You should have counted the first date we had in the kitchen’s floor, then,” Dean added cheekily. 

“It was a good moment and I’ve enjoyed it plenty but I don’t think that counts. I didn’t know at that time that you were interested in me,” Castiel replied seriously.

Dean groaned. “C’mon Cas, I think it was pretty clear! I was all over you—”

“I may have suspected something, but a suspicion is not a fact,” Castiel corrected. 

Dean rolled his eyes affectionately. “Anyway, you didn’t have to buy me anything, Cas. We’re still dealing with the payments and all that sh—”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted again. “I wanted to. It’s not expensive or anything, it’s what I could afford. Please, open it.”

Dean did. 

It turned it was not anything he may have imagined. Inside the little box there was a silver key-ring with a big golden _‘ DEAN’ _ embossed in the middle. It was classy and original, Dean immediately loved it and expressed exactly that to the baker. However...

“This is not gold colored or anything like that, Cas,” he said, looking at the key-ring with attention. Castiel looked back at him with a slight blush Dean comprehended in a second. When he was about to speak, Castiel interrupted.

“It’s  _ real  _ silver, and  _ real  _ gold,” he said quietly and put a hand in Dean’s mouth so he couldn’t say anything else. “I’ve worked for this. I mean…  _ particularly  _ for this. It’s separated from the bakery’s profits. Remember Tessa, the girl from the funeral parlor?” Dean nodded and made a shocking gesture. “Why do you put that face? She’s great.” 

“I know, it's just her boss looks like Death himself. He scares me a little,” Dean complained and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, she has a kid and wanted me to do his birthday cake, plus some other food for his party,” Castiel explained. “I wanted to buy you something but I hadn’t a cent so I said yes. I asked her to pay me in advance, and I used part of that money to buy the ingredients. I used the rest to buy you this,” he finished, really proud of how it turned out to be.

Dean looked at him with a mixture of fondness and contentment Castiel didn’t know how to respond at. “That’s why you made me go to my apartment last Wednesday?” he asked and Castiel confirmed it, with a quiet _‘_ _ sorry’  _ murmured in between. “I thought you were angry with me about something,” he confessed.

“I would never be angry with you,” Castiel replied, gravely. “I think we’ve won a new client, anyway, she was really satisfied with the result,” he added, with a smile that shone Dean’s soul. “I needed something good for you, I didn’t want a piece of trash, you’ve done so much for me…”

“Cas—”

“No, seriously, you did. I think this is trinket compared to the value of everything you’ve risked for me... Shit,” he added and Dean reacted in surprise. Quite rightly, since Castiel barely swore, “even a new car would be a trinket, you gave yours for free,” he huffed, frustrated, and Dean left him. They had talked a lot over the course of those weeks, but sometimes Dean knew Castiel only needed to rant and release all the bitter thoughts he had about his family and the bad moments they made him live. Castiel kept silent after that comment,  though, and shook his head. Perhaps that was it, perhaps he preferred to stop that day. 

It was okay for Dean. They would talk later.

“You know better than anyone that I’ve not made anything out of obligation,” Dean said, quietly, however. It was not bad repeating it once in a while, when he could do it. After all, they were a couple of guys with self-esteem issues. Castiel looked at him with wet eyes, but a reassuring smile. “Every single thing I’ve made, I’ve made it for us. And I would make them again, if I had to,” he added and leaned in to kiss him.

“I know… but it’s complicated to get the idea someone would risk so much for so little… I’m just a baker with multiple problems to solve.”

“Little? Are you serious? Apart from my family, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Cas,” Dean replied, Castiel’s heart beating furiously in his chest. “You told Ellen the other day she was exaggerating, but she wasn’t. You’re like… the best birthday present, and Christmas present and Thanksgiving present…” he snorted. Castiel did as well. “You know why?” Dean asked and Castiel replied he didn’t. “Because you know me, Cas, you know who I am, the real Dean, and you believed in me even when I was behaving like an asshole. Nobody has ever done that for me before...” he paused, his eyes stuck in Castiel’s. “I fucking love this and I will use it everyday,” he finished, pointing out to the key-ring.

Castiel dried his eyes and smiled shyly. “Turn the key-ring over,” he asked and Dean complied.

There were some words engraved. It looked like the verse of a song.

> __ we need each other  
>  _ we believe in one another  
>  _ _ and I know we're going to uncover  
>  _ __ what's sleepin' in our soul
> 
> _ \- Castiel (2016-01-24) _

Dean snorted. “Did you visit Missouri or something that you knew what I would say?”

Castiel smiled and shook his head. “I don’t need magic, I just know  _ you _ . Claire introduced me to this music band I didn’t know and when I listened to this song I thought about us,” he said simply and caressed Dean’s cheek. Dean leaned into the touch and turned his head a little to kiss Castiel’s hand.

“What band?” Dean asked, curiously after a while. “I’m trying to figure out where I listened to this and I can’t…”

“I don’t remember,” Castiel replied, and taking into account Dean’s reaction that was exactly what the accountant thought Castiel would reply. Clearly they didn’t need magic. “I think it was a geographical feature… or something similar…” and this is when Dean looked completely confused. It was good taking him by surprise. 

He kept silent for a while, trying to understand Castiel’s riddle until he laughed powerfully at the realization. “Are you meaning  _Oasis _ by any chance?” Castiel made a face, as if thinking about it, and when he finally nodded Dean couldn’t help laughing a little more. “Oh God, you can be mouthful about practically everything but you cannot retain in your mind the name of one of the most popular English bands ever… you’re something, Cas,” he added and even when Castiel knew Dean was joking he blushed a little. “I think it in fact fits us. When they used to play together they believed they were the shit. Now I believe  _ we are the shit _ . It suits us.” 

“As long as we have a better ending…” Castiel joked.

“Don’t even mention it!” Dean replied. “We won’t only survive the group career but also their solo ones! What I’m saying…? We will survive The Beatles’ popularity!” 

Castiel chuckled. “You’re really optimist,” he said.

“It’s impossible not to be, it’s you and me what I’m talking about,” Dean said easily.

Castiel couldn’t reply back to that declaration, as usual overwhelmed by Dean’s sincerity, so he said nothing. He caressed Dean’s cheek instead, until he couldn’t help it and started talking again.

“I know The Beatles,” he said.

Dean looked at him, somehow proud. “Thanks God, it means I’m not dating an alien,” he replied and both laughed. 

They stayed in silence together for a while, only staring at each other. All the important words had been already said, apparently. At some point Dean faced his attention in the key-ring, and kept on looking at it, without saying a word.

“I don’t know what keys to add to it,” he confessed seriously. “I don’t own a lot of keys, to be honest, and I want to use it everyday… perhaps the Impala’s… or Bobby’s place… or everything together… what do you think?” he asked Castiel, who looked at him fondly.

“I may have a suggestion for you in regards of that,” he replied and Dean furrowed his brows, clueless. Castiel put his hands in one of his jean’s pockets and took a couple keys out of it. Then he handed them to Dean, who looked at them unsure. Probably he had caught what Castiel was doing.

“Cas—” he tried, confirming Castiel’s thoughts. He sounded scared. 

“Take them,” Castiel insisted, “please,” he added, and Dean finally complied. One of the two keys had a small silver cupcake attached. The second one had a little house hanging on it. It was not really complicated to get the message.

“I just…” Dean tried, unsure. “I don’t think I deserve such a trust… I’m—”

“Are you talking for real, Dean?” Castiel asked. Dean lowered his gaze, but Castiel took Dean’s head with his hands and looked at him in the eyes again. “I think you don’t get it as much as you should, but you’re the reason we are all here working and this shop has a future that is not dark and completely hopeless. You’re literally the reason everything is fine now, and you deserve not only the key to enter this place whenever you want but also every good thing that comes your way.”

“Even you?” Dean replied, still quiet but with a flirtatious note Castiel couldn’t ignore.

“If you think I’m a good thing, then yes,” Castiel said and Dean confirmed it with a kiss. “You’re my boyfriend and personal accountant, and one of more truthful people I have in my life. You can carry my shop’s key as well as Charlie or Benny.”

“You aren’t only giving me your shop key,” Dean pointed out.

“I know,” Castiel replied, matter-of-factly. “Unlike Charlie and Benny, my shop is not the only thing I trust you with.”

They remained in silence for a while, and Castiel knew Dean was fighting with himself in order to say what he was feeling, or not. Castiel persuaded him to do it, so Dean spoke.

“I don’t want us to take our relationship too far too soon,” the accountant replied blushing a little, somehow scared Castiel could take it badly. “You’re really important to me, and I know it sounds crazy but I don’t know what I would do with my life if for whatever reason we don’t work...” he sighed. “I… fuck, this is so difficult,” he paused again. “I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, you know?” Castiel felt such a sudden emotion he thought he couldn’t breath properly. “But I don’t want to invade your house since day zero because you will eventually get tired of me… and I don’t blame you at all… but at the same time my apartment sucks. It’s so fucking empty and white and… horribly depressing, I want to get rid of it and never show it to you because it’s embarrassing how much impersonal it is...  but I won’t crash in your house just because of that and look like I’m taking advantage of you… but at the same time I feel comfortable there with you and I feel really guilty for that… I love your bedroom, your bed is cozy! Sleeping with you at night and then waking up again is the best feeling ever, I swear. I love watching TV in that old fashioned television you have… but the other day I thought my television would look really good in your living room and I felt like shit when I realized I was thinking I would get out of the bakery for a couple of hours to move it to your house. Just like that! Like I didn’t have to ask you first! What a pain in the ass! I think I ate three donuts after that. It gave me emotional eating… Claire noticed and made me a face, by the way. And now you’re giving me the fucking keys as if you… I don’t know… as if you accepted all that! Fuck… as if it’s okay for me to refurbish your house or thinking about forever like fucking Cinderella… it’s totally irrational...”

“You’re mumbling in such a way you forgot all grammar rules,” Castiel said affectionately when he noticed Dean wouldn’t say anything else. Dean nodded, ignoring the joke, and kept on watching the house key, as if it was hypnotizing him. “My intention was not for you to move in  _ now _ if you’re still scared,” he added and Dean turned his face to look at him. “You’re not the only one feeling like that… I’ve never been in love before you. You’re practically my first…  _ everything _ , Dean, and it panics me I may do something wrong with you and ruin it all.” Dean made a movement so he was better placed in the chair, and that made their faces be closer than before. Castiel didn’t complain. “But if I’ve learnt something out of this problem we faced is that I have to follow my heart and fight for what I believe in. For what makes me feel better... happy. And there’s nothing more precious to me than seeing you at ease sharing my house with me. You’re not tiring, you’re not taking advantage of anything or anyone there. You’re living, you’re relaxed, and I like that, for the both of us.” Castiel made a pause and looked at Dean, who was looking back at him with all his attention. “The other day I was awake in bed, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you up, so I started thinking about nothing in particular. I ended up deciding that Vonnegut poster you talked about in New Year’s Eve would look good in our bedroom, facing the bed. And I  _ thought consciously  _ about that word.  _ Our _ . More than once. When I realized, I looked at you, and I knew I needed to give you the key. That’s not  _my _ bedroom anymore, I cannot sleep there alone, anyway. Somehow you changed something that worked for years in just a couple of months… but it’s how it has to be, I feel it. I want you there... if you want to be there, of course.”

“I want it as you have no idea,” Dean confessed.

“So, let’s try,” Castiel replied. “Just for a while, seeing if we work. If you feel like moving your television to my living room, do it. If you feel like bringing more clothes, I will reorganize the wardrobe happily so we can share. If you feel like staying on your own, you can go to your apartment, I won’t get offended. At some point we will be sure and more experienced, so we will be able to say we’re living together.” 

“Officially,” Dean pointed out cheekily.

“Officially,” Castiel confirmed, and smiled into Dean’s kiss. “Besides, you’ve said we would survive The Beatles’ popularity. I think you have faith in us…”

“I do!” Dean replied and kept quiet for a while. Castiel didn’t push, he needed to know what he would say next. “I may move the fridge,” Dean added finally, completely teasing. Castiel chuckled. He loved when Dean acted like that. It meant everything was going to be alright. “It’s one of those fridges with the ice dispenser at the door,” he added and made a gesture with his hands. Castiel rolled his eyes with affection.

“I’m in if that’s what you want,” he replied. “We could send mine to the hospital, they always need help. What do you think?” Castiel added, and Dean nodded.

“I’m in if that’s what you want,” he said and leaned in. Castiel thought he was going to kiss him again, and he wouldn’t complain… but when Dean took him in an embrace, Castiel felt even better. 

Dean was toned and energetic, Castiel liked how relaxed Dean’s body made him feel. So relaxed, in fact, he fell asleep. 

“What was that?” Castiel said, quietly, when he heard a sound in the distance. 

Dean groaned softly, recognition in his tone. “I think it’s your cellphone,” he said, sounding a little bothered for the interruption. Castiel collapsed over Dean again, with his eyes closed. “I bet you it’s Gabriel, calling to cockblock our heart to heart conversations because he can’t wait fucking five minutes more to drink and eat some dinner and—” 

“It’s a quarter to ten,” Castiel interrupted, watching at the clock. He sat up straighter and looked at Dean, who was laughing at the situation. “We overslept for an hour while they were waiting for us,” Castiel added, smirking too, even when it was against his will. “We are horrible relatives.”

“Indeed,” Dean replied and now his cellphone was the one ringing. He took it without looking at the screen. “Do you believe us if we tell you we fell asleep on a chair?” 

“I can believe you, yes. You’re a couple of idjits,” Bobby replied, and even when Dean hadn’t put the conversation in speaker mode it was perfectly audible for Castiel. 

Dean laughed at the response.

“Idjits in love, dad,” he pointed out cheekily and Castiel didn’t need magic either to know Bobby was rolling his eyes at his son’s response. 

“If you two don’t come here in ten minutes I will eat the last two slices of pie your mother baked for you,” Bobby replied and Dean’s face turned shocked and disgusted in a second.

“What?” He said, scared, and Castiel couldn’t help laughing a little. “It’s not funny Cas! How… the last two slices? Dad… why did you do this to me? In my birthday!” 

“Don’t act like a kid, bring your ass to your in-law house and eat the damn pie.”

“Aye, sir,” Dean replied and finished the conversation. “We need to go, now,” he said to Cas, who was still chuckling at Dean’s reaction.

Castiel was sure the pie would be uneaten and intact once they get there, but prefer saying nothing while they stood up and walked to the door. Dean’s face was worth the omission. 

When Dean looked at him, in a silent plea to close the store quickly, Castiel shrugged his shoulders.

“I may have forgotten my keys,” he said, mischievously. Dean looked at him in horror. “But there’s nothing to worry about, you have yours now. Do you understand how much important it is for you to have a set too? I’m really forgetful sometimes,” Castiel added and winked at Dean, who smirked in between the nervousness.

“You left them at home on purpose,” Dean replied, taking the cupcake key-ring out of his jean pocket and closing the door.

“Maybe,” Castiel said, and if the fact that Dean mentioned his house as  _‘ home’ _ made him breathe irregularly he didn’t mention it.

It was hours later, in the afterglow of a particularly passionate night, with Dean’s limbs possessively tangled to his, that he finally did.

He didn’t know if it was a dream, though, until Dean mumbled something against his neck and he had to repeat the phrase.

“You said  _home _ back then, when we were closing the store,” Castiel said in a whisper, as if he didn’t want to break the atmosphere between them talking louder than that. 

Dean surprised Castiel with an intense kiss in his neck before turning his head to meet the baker’s eyes. The prospect of hickey woke some interest in his private parts, but it was not time yet to act in consequence.

“Did I?” Dean asked, sleepy and wary, as if after the kiss he was fighting himself against the need of starting their second round as much as Castiel. The baker nodded. “It was totally unconscious, I didn’t realize.”

“Dean and Castiel, saying the important things thoughtlessly since the very first day they met,” Castiel replied, and caressed Dean’s cheek with fondness. 

“It doesn’t mean I don’t mean it,” Dean pointed out cautiously. “I truly do. Every single thing I say, whatever if I think it before I say it or not.”

“I know, based on my own experience,” Castiel replied. “How did you say today? _ We’re out of  _ _practice_? I think that’s the problem, we will have to learn how to use our words romantically in a proper way,” he added and Dean smiled against his chest. It was a pleasant experience Castiel wanted to repeat as many times as possible.

They remained in silence for a while, up to the point Castiel thought he was about to fall asleep again. Before that happened, however, Dean talked again.

“Can I start right now?” he said, sounding a little unsure. When Castiel asked him please to elaborate, Dean added. “I mean… saying something really corny to you that is totally conscious and completely planned, and I would be ashamed of saying if it wasn’t for the fact that I love you a lot…” he sighed. “Can I start right now?” 

Dean raised his head and looked at Castiel with a cocky smile in his face the baker couldn’t resist, even in his drowsy state. He leaned in a kissed Dean, but the accountant didn’t let it go deeper than a smooch.

“If you attack me with your irresistible lips I can’t talk,” he joked and Castiel elbowed him playfully in the waist. 

“Go on,” he said and Dean coughed, looking nervous. “C’mon, Dean, be strong, I know you can do it.”

“Fucker,” Dean replied rolling his eyes at Castiel’s teasing tone. He coughed a couple times more and then went on. “I happened to understand this I will tell you when I was at your cousin’s house, so it’s a fresh realization! I mean… I felt comfortable today, you know? I had no idea why, I wondered exactly that for a couple of hours while everybody was drinking and eating and having fun… how could that be? I felt at ease, as if that was my place in the world or something… and Gabriel’s house was just a place I visited once or twice before! It was illogical. But then I got it,” he said and Castiel asked him to go on. “You were there with me, Cas, that’s the point,” he said and Castiel stared at him completely surprised. “It doesn’t matter if it’s your bakery, or your house, or your cousin’s house, or my brother’s at California, or if I was at the end of the freaking Earth… it’s you. Probably you can go to my horribly white apartment with me and I still would feel comfortable there. You’re  _home _ to me.”

Castiel wanted to reply and say something back as emotional as what Dean was saying to him but he couldn’t find the proper words. Dean probably noticed because he kept on going after some seconds of silence.

“When you gave me the keys I panicked, and... well… I told you how I felt. But I was being irrational. I was worrying about a place, I was giving it importance when it was not the biggest issue. I was not attaching myself to a bunch of bricks… you know? I was attaching myself to you, and that’s not something I could change at this point. I don’t even want to change it, to begin with. I’m afraid we are attached with each other forever, the deal is done.”

Castiel grinned at that last statement and kept quiet, his head in Dean’s shoulder.

“You are really corny, indeed,” he said and Dean laughed, “but I’m pleased with that. Every corny comments you make will be very well welcomed, and probably corresponded.”

“It’s great to hear that,” Dean replied, sounding asleep.

After some minutes of silence, when Dean’s snoring started to be noticeable, Castiel chose to say something else. The accountant woke up instantly, as if he was waiting for that to happen.

“I’ve been analyzing what you’ve said,” Castiel started, “and since you expressed I’m  _home _ for you... I was wondering when would you get in me…”

Dean kept quiet for a while until he suddenly got what Castiel was implying, and burst into laughter. He raised his body a little and moved above the baker, with one of his shoulders against the pillow and his face inches away from Castiel’s. Even in the darkness Castiel could see the intensity in Dean’s eyes, the purity of his smile, the happiness he exuded all over his body. It was one of the most satisfying feelings Castiel had ever experienced.

“Am I a pervert or are you using my corny words to make me get into your pants?”

“As far as I know, we’re already naked, Dean. No pants involved in my allegation,” Castiel replied, in a teasing tone. 

He had no time to make another comment because Dean lost no time and complied.

They _ played house _ for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo references: 
> 
> ♥ Kurt Vonnegut's Poster → [LINK](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/2c/1f/04/2c1f04d076e07e4d3029677ce34c407d.jpg)  
> ♥ Cupcake Key-ring → [LINK](http://s5.thisnext.com/media/largest_dimension/6664D896.jpg)  
> ♥ House Key-ring → [LINK](http://www.totalmerchandise.co.uk/uploads/product-images/House_Keyring1.jpg)  
> ♥ Mini Birthday Cake → [LINK](http://static1.squarespace.com/static/52e29c19e4b05158ff4419ff/t/55b402efe4b03d9124efa84f/1437860592062/Making+Mini+Birthday+Cakes+%7C+Wellnesting)
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!! Make me know!! :)


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